


Contents Under Pressure

by LaughingStones, roachpatrol



Series: Rich Merrill, Deluxe edition [6]
Category: After the Storm - Hannah Birchwood & Key Dyson & Raymond Roach, Motorcity (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Body Dysphoria, Careful Consent, Coercive Magic, Crossover, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Magical Aphrodisiacs, Multi, Power Imbalance, Rescue, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Supernatural Creatures, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, forced transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: Rich has been living in this body for three months now, and he hates it. The people around him like it plenty, which isn't so great when they're gross old men. When Julie Kane and her two newest directors show up, though, Rich encounters allies in unexpected quarters and the possibility of escape from the nightmare he's been living. Of course, that’s before the aphrodisiac spell backfires...
Relationships: Julie Kane/Mike Chilton/Chuck, Rich Merrill/Chuck, Rich Merrill/Mike Chilton
Series: Rich Merrill, Deluxe edition [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635523
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	Contents Under Pressure

Rich knows as soon he gets called up to the board room that it's going to be bad, he just doesn't know how bad until he gets there and finds the members of the Board of Directors drifting in one by one and Carraway already waiting for him.

“Hello there, darlin’,” Carraway says warmly, drawing him aside with a hand on his upper back, safely on the cloth of Rich's little PRT top. Of course, the guy wouldn't want to be affected by the spell on Rich, that would be just _terrible_ for him.

Reason #471 Rich hates this body: it makes Carraway unnerving at an instinctive level. It's not about the vampire thing—Chuck was a vampire, is a vampire, whatever, and Rich liked him a lot when he knew him, before he ran away to be a badass rebel. Carraway's very subtle about it, anyway, so only a slight sharpness at his incisors and the darkness of his eyes give him away.

No, the issue is that the man is _huge_ , taller than Rich's usual body by at least four inches and nearly as broad in the chest, and this body is so much smaller Carraway can pick him up and just—do whatever he wants with Rich. And has in the past, of course, which doesn't help Rich's nerve-wracking awareness of the potential danger.

“Now, I know you already got a job to do here,” Carraway tells him as Rich wraps his arms around himself under his breasts and waits for the kicker. “But I think you can handle this. This is a full board meeting gettin’ ready to start here, and I think that dear little lady Ms Kane and her young pals could use to relax a little. So you're gonna pay them special attention, y'hear? Let 'em know just how much fun you are, don't be shy. You understand me, sweet thing?”

“Yes, sir,” Rich says dutifully, in the soft, high voice he's almost gotten used to being his in the last few months.

“That's my girl,” Carraway says, smiling, and pats him on the ass, careful not to brush skin above the low waist of the skirt. That hand squeezes a little, groping just enough to make the bracelet thrum once on Rich's wrist, a rush of heat shooting through him that makes him gasp. “You go on and warm up while you do your work, now.”

“Yessir,” Rich says breathlessly, hating him as the familiar, awful heat sinks through him. It pulses as he walks away, and grows steadily as Rich prepares the coffee and refreshments, until he's struggling with the stupid, _useless_ urge to drop everything he’s doing to run his hands over his own skin, through his hair, down his skirt, whatever. It won’t help, it never helps, it can’t. _Warm up_ , god, fuck Carraway. He keeps his breathing quiet and steady, even if he can’t help how it deepens, and he doesn’t do a damn thing about what’s happening between his legs, and he gets the fucking coffee ready.

Rich isn't so distracted with his own bullshit that he misses the arrival of ‘that dear little lady’ Ms Kane, the CEO, and her two ex-rebel companions, now Director of Security and Director of Research and Development: Mike fucking Chilton himself and _Chuck_. Fuck, Rich almost didn't recognize Chuck at first, he's so tall and broad-shouldered and _adult_ now instead of the scrubby little toothpick of a sixteen-year-old he was when he disappeared. He's got stubble on his jaw and really nice arms now, and his long hair is pulled back in a ponytail, leaving his big, scooped vampire ears nowhere to hide.

…And he's not making any effort to hide them, either. Mike Chilton murmurs something to him and Chuck's ears tilt up a little, then flick as he laughs. The Chuck Rick used to know would've had them pinned back against his head under his hair, and done his best never to move them at all. Of course, Rich only knew him for a little over two years, and he's been gone twice that, down being a freedom fighter in Motorcity. It shouldn't be a surprise how much he's changed.

It shouldn't be a surprise how hot he is, either, despite the unnervingly blatant deviant body language. They're _all_ hot, Chuck, Ms Kane and Mike Chilton. Ms Kane is _beautiful_ , sharp and pale with a piercing gaze, obviously Kane’s daughter, openly a witch, and entirely terrifying. Mike Chilton is athletic and bouncy and handsome, like most werewolves, and Rich has had a ridiculous, secret hero-crush on the guy for like, three years.

And now he's supposed to go _flirt_ with him, and also Ms Kane, who incidentally could throw Rich in a detention cell with a snap of her fingers, and Chuck.

Whose eyes pass over him as Chuck glances around the room, then pause and come back with a slight frown. It's probably the hair color that caught him, there aren't that many folks in Deluxe with blood-red hair, but other than that Rich looks nothing like himself right now.

He's a short girl, maybe five foot three, very curvy, with a sweet oval face and big eyes. Small, soft hands, no muscle definition anywhere. The only things that are still Rich's are the coloring; the green eyes, the hair, the ridiculously pale skin.

He's still frozen under Chuck's gaze, not sure whether he's more scared of Chuck somehow recognizing him, or not doing so. Then Chuck gives him an awkward little close-lipped smile and moves on, like maybe he thinks he scared this girl by flashing his fangs when he laughed. Rich closes his eyes and tells himself he's relieved.

As the last Directors of the Board take their seats, Rich hurries to start around the table with the coffee. He starts with Ms Kane, as the highest ranking person present, and she sweeps one look over him, a golden sheen over her dark eyes, and turns to give the rest of the Board a cool, thoughtful look.

It's taken him until this moment to realize that the CEO might have certain opinions about the girl who's serving coffee happening to have a superficial resemblance to her; both pale, with dark red hair. There's no way Carraway and the others didn't take that into account, either.

Rich's hands are shaking slightly for more reasons than the relentless arousal as he moves on around the table. He really isn't interested in being used to antagonize the CEO, thanks. Too bad that seems to be one reason he's here.

Mike Chilton gives him a friendly smile as Rich leans over to fill his mug, and murmurs, “Thanks, ma’am,” not exactly into his ear, but pretty close. Rich almost gasps, hoping the way he presses his thighs together isn't obvious. _God,_ the guy's even better looking up close than in action footage, it’s surreal. Rich smiles back at him as bright and professional as he can, and turns the right way to flash Mike a nice deep view of his cleavage before straightening again. He can't tell if it looked natural or really obvious, but at least Carraway can't pretend he hasn't done anything. Rich knows without looking that Carraway’s keeping a close eye on him, he always does.

He works his way around the table, fills mugs for Grear and Archer and Jones, waiting helplessly for someone to kick off the first grope, the teasing touches, but they don’t come, even from Grear. Even from _Carraway_. They all ignore Rich, mostly, though Webb also thanks him, with a brief little smirk towards Chilton, like thanking the help is some kind of ridiculous social faux pas that Webb's poking fun at. Fuck, Rich hates all of these assholes so badly— and hates himself, too, as the groping and teasing keeps not happening, and the heat pulsing through Rich stays at a steady low simmer, and he can _think_ , but he has no idea what to think _of,_ other than the fact. At least when he’s so fucking horny he can’t string two neurons together he doesn’t have to care about politics.

Because that’s what’s happening right now, politics. A really deadly level of politics. It hasn’t materially mattered to Rich the last couple months which Kane was doing what, except now the Kane that Rich is being told to get frisky with is a girl. Lean and sharp and smart and _young_ , probably involved with at least Mike and maybe Chuck too, and not at all likely to be forgiving of some sexed-up knock-off that her asshole Directors dragged in to parade around in front of the three of them. A knock-off who’s probably going to be doing some grinding on at least one of them before the night’s out.

Fuck, Rich shouldn’t have thought about grinding. Mike’s _so fucking hot_. Rich steals a guilty, furtive glance back at him and almost squeaks when he actually catches the guy’s eye— he’s watching, too? He’s watching Rich. He cocks his head to one side, thoughtfully, his eyes dark and considering on Rich’s as he looks for… _something_ , and Rich just stands there and tries not to blush too hard or drop his carafe or like, drip on the floor.

Then Mike’s attention is taken up by someone else, another Director, and Rich can breathe again. _Fuck_ , he might risk a detention pod for the chance to get Mike’s hand on his ass. He’s so goddamn _stupid_ lately.

For about the millionth time, Rich thinks of just chopping his fucking hand off to get free of the bracelet. For about the millionth time, Rich takes a deep breath, and gets ready to pour another _fucking_ cup of coffee.

It’s Chuck’s cup. It’s _Chuck,_ a kid Rich saw grow up, a kid Rich was friends with, who Rich had a lot of awkward teenage feelings about. Who Rich maybe spent a really embarrassing couple of months being sulky and heartbroken and tragic about, when the bony little shithead bailed on R&D— _on Rich—_ without so much as a ‘so long, and thanks for all the dick’.

“Um, hey there,” Chuck says, essaying a sweet, cautious little smile. It’s fangy and crooked and so familiar, Rich’s heart kind of goes crunch. Other, grosser parts do even stupider things.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says fondly, and scruffles Chuck’s sleekly pulled-back hair.

He realizes what an enormous screw-up that was a millisecond later, when Chuck sits straight up and goes, “ _Rich?_ Rich _Merrill_ , holy shit!”

Rich's eyes widen in panic. Shit, he's such an idiot, he's gonna be in _such_ big trouble with Carraway after this, disrupting a meeting, getting the wrong kind of attention, fucking up whatever elaborate game is going on. He can't suppress the rapid, anxious glance across the table at Grear, down to Carraway, and Chuck follows his gaze, eyes narrowing as his mouth tightens.

Rich can't answer the actual question even if he knew what to say—physically can't force the words _Yeah, that's me_ from his lips, but fortunately Chuck doesn't need verbal confirmation. He frowns uncertainly at Rich, and now he’s actually _seeing_ him, someone who knows who Rich _is_ is looking at him and Rich hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that, until it happened.

“...Wait, shit. Is it still Rich? Not, uh, Rita or something?”

Rich blinks. Oh, of course. Chuck recognizes him now, but he thinks the girl shape could be a voluntary thing, which would honestly make more sense than the truth. But even as Chuck’s uncertainty tips towards dismay, Rich still can’t say a damn thing, and Carraway steps in anyway.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Director, I think you've mistaken our sweet girl here for someone else. The name we all know her by—”

“His _name_ is _Rich_ ,” Chuck says, glaring down the table, because of _course_ he can tell not saying no doesn't necessarily mean yes. Rich kind of wants to kiss him, or ride his dick, or something, god, why did he think of that. A whole lot of memories of the kind of things he and Chuck got up to are presenting themselves to his nervous system. Insistently.

“Well, now,” Carraway says comfortably. “I’m sure I can’t argue with you when you’re so certain, but that’s a funny name for such a pretty girl, isn’t it?”

Chuck looks Rich up and down, his eyebrows drawing together. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Y’know, that _is_ funny.”

Rich feels himself pressing up against Chuck’s side, before he can help himself— his hip against one of Chuck’s lean arms, his whole body cringing away from the mild, dangerous amusement in Carraway’s dark eyes. His bracelet pulses, pouring more heat down his spine and he can feel every square inch of skin that touches Chuck’s, the shift of muscle under his skin, the electric spark of contact.

He can feel the way Chuck’s breath hitches, abruptly, and the little shiver that goes through him.

“Sorry,” Rich says, finally, and his voice comes out high and breathless. A sexy, babydoll squeak. “Sorry, Directors, I— I’ll just—” and he pours Chuck’s cup of coffee.

Chuck grabs his wrist, as he turns to go, right over the bracelet. The shudder that goes through Chuck this time is pronounced, and he takes a rasping, chirpy breath in. Sighs out, “ _Ah_ , _”_ and lets Rich go.

Chuck looks Rich right in the eyes and says, “It’s fine. Okay? It’s _fine_.”

Rich has no idea what this means. While Chuck’s been doing high-level genius hacker rebel politics stuff, with code phrases and cool secret messages and whatever, Rich was kind of busy screwing his brains out. So now Rich gives Chuck a bright, fake smile, and scurries off to go do some of the non-screwing parts of the job.

 _God_ , this sucks. He’s hit the ‘so horny it literally hurts’ stage of the night, and has no idea how long it’s going to last. No one would be crazy enough to fuck him over the table right in front of Ms Kane, right? Like, you go to prison forever because of that. Right? Fuck. This _sucks_.

Meetings always suck, although Rich has only served coffee at the informal luncheons before this, but at least then the directors start doing stuff with him, to him, eventually. They'll tease him for a while first, make him desperate enough to start begging so he's _asked_ for whatever they do after that. He's not used to not being touched at all, especially when the spell has already been triggered by the first grope, and then ramped up, and he's not sure how long it's gonna take before he loses his head and starts begging _anyway_.

He stands against the wall over by the refreshments table and does his best to not squirm too obviously, not moan out loud, not be dumb and touch himself. The board meeting goes on, everything passing above his head, as distracted as he is. He's not sure how long it's been by the time Archer calls him impatiently over for a refill, and Rich is just proud he doesn't moan out loud when Grear palms his ass afterwards.

“Hey,” Mike says, and it’s a low, feral sound. It’s a growl. Grear has basically Rich’s entire butt in his hand and can _definitely_ feel the way Rich shivers all over at that sound, but the bastard just finishes groping and sits back in his chair. Smirking, leaving Rich burning-hot and brainless and just about ready to cry for more.

Mike licks his lips, looks from Rich’s face and down along his body and back again, unsubtly taking a sniff of what’s going on, and he looks _confused_. Ready to be angry but not sure at who or about what. Because it’s not like Rich is saying _no_ , is it? It’s not like Rich doesn’t want this so badly he’s practically drooling for it. And it’s not like someone as straightforwardly heroic as Mike Chilton knows how fucked up things can get when you don’t have the option of telling anyone _no_.

“Me too,” Mike says after a minute, lifting his cup a little, which he's barely touched, and when Rich steps obediently over to pour in the little bit that'll fit, Mike touches his elbow. It's a brush of two fingers, a startlingly gentle gesture from anyone as rambunctious as a werewolf, and a surge of guilt goes through Rich when the bracelet pulses and Mike huffs softly and shakes his head, blinking.

He licks his lips and murmurs, “Hey, you okay?”

That's one of those questions that Rich can't really answer, and he can't not answer _Mike Chilton_. “Fine, thank you, sir,” he murmurs back helplessly, and tries really hard not to sway closer. Mike's still touching his arm, like he's forgotten to pull his hand away, and at this range Rich can watch his pupils expand, his irises shift from dark brown to a warm amber as he stares at Rich.

“I’d like a refill too,” Chuck says, and Mike blinks, drops his hand, looks away from Rich with an effort, to stare at Chuck. Some kind of complicated eye-contact happens between the two of them while Rich hurries over, and Mike opens his mouth, closes it, and sits back in his seat with a wave of his hand. It kind of looks like an _Okay, sure_ , wave, but Rich doesn’t exactly know the guy. Or his exact relationship with Chuck. They’re close, obviously, but— how close? ‘Watch your buddy get some’ close? Threesome close? God, shit, don't think about that. Or how equipped Rich’s body is at the moment to take two dicks at once. _Definitely_ don’t think about that.

Chuck waits until Rich refills his coffee, then reaches out, takes the carafe away, and sets it at arms’ length in the middle of the table.

Then he wraps an arm around Rich’s hips and pulls him sideways on to Chuck’s lap.

Holy _shit_. Okay. That’s definitely an erection Rich is sitting on, _nice_. Rich really, _really_ hopes that Mike’s little hand gesture thing meant ‘Me and Ms Kane are completely down with you plowing Rich over the table right now, have fun!’

Chuck doesn't make any move to do that, though, doesn't even grope Rich, doesn't give him anything. He raises a small screen and inputs something Rich isn't paying enough attention to to catch, and a second later a notification screen pops up in front of Rich that he has a chat message.

He's clumsy enough with need that it takes him a moment to remember how to open the chat, one-handed and locked to personal perception. But god, when he does—

**LordVanquisher: hey this is chuck**

**LordVanquisher: are you free to talk?**

Rich leans gratefully into Chuck, relaxing for the first time in what feels like forever. God, the little shit is still so smart. That’s a code phrase techies use, normally to check what level of surveillance someone's under, rather than checking on the status of an actual silencing spell, but hey, it’s apparently multi-purpose. The normal response if you do have a problem is to say you're some amount of busy, so...

**theUltraGolem: im obcsenely busyy actauly, and still wana get busier**

Chuck snorts a quiet laugh in his ear as Rich finishes typing.

**theUltraGolem: but god its good to see you**

Chuck hugs him a little closer with the arm around him, hand on Rich's bare side, and Rich bites his lip as the heat between his legs throbs miserably at the contact.

**LordVanquisher: are you okay, dude? what do you need?**

**theUltraGolem: ffuckc, man im fcuking LOSIGN IT here, i need it s obad**

**theUltraGolem: help**

**theUltraGolem: PLS**

Chuck lets out a slow, unsteady breath, warm and tickling against his ear, and Rich can’t help the tiny, stupid, high-pitched whimper that forces its way out through his teeth.

**LordVanquisher: how much are you going to regret this tomorrow?**

**theUltraGolem: NONE!!!**

**LordVanquisher: okay. keep quiet.**

Rich bites his lip and pushes his face against Chuck’s shoulder, trying not to hyperventilate. Fuck, this feels so different when it’s someone he likes, someone he _trusts_. Chuck hitches him a little further up his lap, so his ass is presumably not putting a dent in Chuck's boner or something, and then slides his free hand up Rich’s skirt without any further fussing and starts demonstrating a completely unexpected clit proficiency. Rich squeaks, once, then gets just enough of a hold on himself that he doesn’t make a _damn_ sound after that. Just breathes, careful and deep, and presses in as close to his friend as he can physically get without clipping straight through Chuck’s ribcage, and after like half a minute, shakes his way through the best orgasm he’s had in months.

That couldn’t possibly have been a secret, though, he realizes, even while he’s still twitching and shuddering blindly through the aftershocks. Sure, he was _quiet,_ but Chuck still just jacked him off— girl-jacked, whatever— in front of like the entire board, and Mike, and _Ms Kane_. Who even now is saying something calm and cool and sensible about, like, sabbaticals and planned retirement, because apparently she can multitask like a motherfucker.

**LordVanquisher: did that do it for you? are you okay?**

If Rich is going to jail for this, he wants another orgasm. Hell, he needs it no matter _what_ happens after this.

**theUltraGolem: more? pls? can you???**

**LordVanquisher: i got you dude, just keep letting me know what you need**

Chuck starts stroking again, just light enough, and Rich breathes and shivers and clings to him, face buried in his shoulder. The thought briefly occurs to him that his skirt is short enough that if Webb looks over, he might be able to see exactly what's going on, but that's not important right now. What's important is that Chuck is helping Rich out, and he knows exactly what he's doing.

Somewhere in the distance, Carraway is saying, genial and condescending, “Now, that's awful kind of you, little lady, but I do think—”

“It's Ms Kane,” Ms Kane says, somehow cutting him off without even raising her voice, which is sexy as hell. “As I've said before. I realize age can cause memory problems, though.”

“Better than a complete failure of manners!” Archer snaps.

“Oh, I completely agree, _Mr_ Archer,” Ms Kane shoots back, poisonously sweet. “Remembering who you’re talking to is _so_ important.” She folds her hands together and leans forward, smiling dangerously. “Do you think we might need to revisit the issue of retirement plans? I would just _hate_ to think I was keeping any of you gentlemen from taking care of your _health_.”

Ms Kane almost definitely killed off her own dad to take the big seat. Sure, he died alone in his office one night with no one around, from a heart attack, but the next week it turns out the daughter he’d left the entire company to was one of the very Burners who’d been after his head and his city for years. It’s not hard to do that math, no matter how rotten your brain’s gone from sex magic. Rich watches Archer blanch and shrink back against his seat and shuffle some papers instead of digging himself any further into the CEO’s bad graces.

Carraway chuckles, the soft cruel laugh of a born sadist, and Rich flinches reflexively at the very sound. He huddles in closer to Chuck’s chest, breathes in Chuck's scent and does his very best to zone out again. The less time he spends listening to any of these dangerous assholes, the better.

Chuck does a very effective job of distracting him. Rich only tunes in again when Grear sneers something about hogging the entertainment, and Carraway says something smug and condescending about how it’s only natural for healthy young men like Director Durant to get a bit _overexcited_ at having something new to play with. Rich has to press his face against Chuck’s shirt to stifle the insane urge to giggle. It doesn’t help that he can feel Chuck’s chest shaking and convulsing against his face as Chuck tries to control his own giggle fit.

**LordVanquisher: u wanna tell him or do i**

**theUltraGolem: pfhgfUCK man god!!!!**

**LordVanquisher: nerds FUCK**

**theUltraGolem: fhfjklfsa NERDS FCUK**

Carraway sees that his stupid little barb didn’t land, though, however carefully Rich and Chuck are trying to control their semi-hysterical amusement, and he says, with slow probing thoughtfulness, “Or maybe we don’t want to interrupt such a charmin’ little reunion.”

“Oh, I thought I didn’t know _her_ ,” Chuck says. His voice is a high, breathless, half-chirpy mess, and he takes a deep breath in, dragging his unoccupied hand through his hair. “Thought you didn’t know, anything about where _she_ came from.”

“Well, however it is she came to us, I’m sure we can _all_ agree it’s downright adorable the way she’s gettin’ on with you right now. Does my heart good to see you enjoyin’ yourself for once, young man. I’ve been thinkin’ you’re a mite too wound up, lately— wouldn’t wanna see such a sharp boy as yourself _snap,_ would we now?”

What an _asshole_. Rich can feel this barb land right in Chuck’s gut: he flinches back, and his lips close tight over his fangs. He’s been a feral, fearless Motorcity vampire for four years now, but Rich remembers how painfully he’d minded his manners, back when he was Deluxian. Every vampire up here lives under the constant strain of expectation that they might revert to type and go charging around exsanguinating people, and it used to tie Chuck in knots, leave him underfed and exhausted, twitchy and neurotic and so goddamn _skinny_...

Carraway catches Rich’s vicious glare, and for once Rich isn’t terrified of him and everything he can do to make Rich’s life even worse, he’s just _furious_.

“Yeah,” Mike says unexpectedly, his voice low and rumbling. “It sure would be a problem if someone got their _head_ bit off, wouldn’t it? _”_

Carraway’s awful smile just widens, and for a second Mike's lips twitch back, baring his fangs as a quiet, rolling growl starts up.

“Directors,” Ms Kane says, shooting a cold, narrow look around the table. “If we could focus on the agenda for a minute instead of fighting like little kids…”

Mike shuts his mouth and stops growling, looking sheepish. Carraway only looks amused and indulgent, of course, but at least he shuts his mouth so the meeting can go on, and stops giving Chuck a hard time.

Rich may be scared of wix these days, for obvious reasons, but he's developing a serious crush on Ms Kane.

When he comes the second time—just as earth-shattering as the first and actually _longer_ —he sags bonelessly against Chuck, sighing contentedly. It takes a moment to realize that Chuck is holding himself very still, practically rigid with the self-control it takes not to grind up against Rich.

Rich tries to pull up the chat screen, realizes his typing dexterity is somewhere around 'abysmal’ at the moment, and gives up. Leaning up to Chuck's ear, he breathes as quietly as he can, “You can, I want you to. You could fuck me over the table if you wanted.”

Chuck jerks, sucking in a sharp breath. Rich feels bad, but at the same time, god, _please_. Chuck shifts under him, just slightly, and lets his breath out again in a shivering sigh. He's been touching Rich this whole time, skin very much against skin, and the spell has to be getting him pretty worked up by now, and it sucks but it's not like there's anything Rich can do and he wants it so _bad—_

“I need a refill,” Webb says pointedly, and Rich jerks and looks over at him wide-eyed, blushing hot to have attention on him like this. Unusually, Rich is being given enough of what he needs that he isn't quite desperate enough now to be brainless, and it turns out there are downsides. Shit, the whole table is watching him, Carraway with a pleased gleam in his dark eyes, Grear with an annoyed smirk. Mike's face is flushed and he watches Rich a little too long, eyes wide and wer-golden, before looking away, licking his sharp teeth. Rich barely manages not to moan, or spread his legs invitingly.

He makes an uncertain move to get off Chuck's lap and the arm around him tightens, reassuring, pulling him back against Chuck’s chest.

“Gosh, what a problem,” Chuck says acidly to Webb, “I guess it's a good thing the coffee is _right there_ within easy reach of an adult man with all his fingers still attached!”

Rich blinks. It is, it's true, but that's his job here—which he never wanted, was forced into like all the rest of this, like this _shape_ —he presses into Chuck again, shivering and grateful for even this temporary reprieve. Webb rolls his eyes and snorts, but reaches for the coffee carafe and pours himself more coffee.

“In _any_ case,” he says, “next on the agenda…”

Chuck’s silent sigh brushes through Rich's hair. He raises the chat screen again.

 **LordVanquisher:** **its a really nice offer, dude, but honestly**

**LordVanquisher: id rather wait until we’re free of this shit and have YOU fuck ME over the desk**

Rich whimpers softly and squirms. God, he _wishes_. He misses his dick so much. His hands are a little better under control now, so he writes back.

 **theUltraGolem:** **if i cold id be so good, man, id make you sqeak n whimper n make those cute lil vamp noises**

**theUltraGolem: fuck u til u couldnt take it anymor**

**theUltraGolem: make u swear at me**

**theUltraGolem: missed ur mouth baby i missed u**

Chuck catches his breath, gives Rich a little one-armed hug.

**LordVanquisher: im sorry i left how i did, dude. things just… started going really fast, and then didn’t ever STOP going fast, and now im a Director??? like, wtf, right?**

**theUltraGolem: im cool w it honstley**

**theUltraGolem: ugot my vote**

Chuck laughs quietly at the stupid, lame old joke, and actually— Rich catches his breath in a high whine— Chuck drops a quick kiss to the back of his neck. The bracelet pulses against his wrist and Rich can feel the spell rolling through him, grounding itself in Chuck, who breathes out a soft shivering moan against his skin. Rich has felt gross, before, he’s felt _filthy_ , but this is kind of a special new layer of awful, feeling like he’s… toxic.

**theUltraGolem: u ok**

**theUltraGolem: imsorry dude im s**

Chuck kisses him again, open-mouthed and lingering, with a hint of fangs. Rich shivers at the prickle of them, the heat, breath against his ear, the way Chuck’s clever fingers have started to move again between his legs, slow and soft and gentle. Whimpers encouragingly, works his hips against that sweet pressure for more, clutches a fistful of Chuck’s shirt. Chuck makes a quiet, tiny little chirp, and his fangs press harder—

“ _Chuck_ ,” Mike says, from across the table, and Rich turns his head enough to stare pleadingly at the guy, moans invitingly. _God_ , fuck, can it _please_ be threesome time yet? He wants to get fucked so bad, feel both of them in him, _please_.

“I, what,” Chuck says, and pulls his mouth away. “Shit— what?”

“I just, uh,” Mike says, and he’s staring openly at Chuck’s hand between Rich’s legs now. He takes a deep breath, licks his fangs again, and says, “What do you think of, of, uh, of Carraway’s proposal? Jules— uh. Ms Kane, needs. Your input here. Buddy.”

If it’s not a threesome Rich doesn’t care. But Chuck takes a deep, shaky breath, pulls himself up straighter in the chair. Mercifully, his hand doesn’t stop working against Rich’s clit, which is about all that’s keeping Rich from losing his shit loudly and at length.

“I’d appreciate your attention to the task at hand, Director Durant,” Ms Kane says, smoothly.

“Sorry,” Chuck says. “Right, yeah. It— I’m here, I—” He takes a steadier breath, pulls up a few visible screens. “Okay, so. The proposal for integrating our security forces with the surveillance-only personnel contingent? I think—” and he goes on like that, his voice a little high and squeaky with strain, but coherent. Rich can feel Chuck's dick leaking through his pants, against the underside of Rich’s thigh, feel it twitching and pulsing, the bracelet pouring relentless, poisonous heat through Rich and through his friend, but Chuck just… keeps going.

When Rich meets Mike’s gaze again, Mike _winks_. Rich can't deal with Mike Chilton winking at him, how is that a fair thing to have happen?

Of course Carraway has things to say when Chuck is done, and there's a biting exchange—so to speak—between the two vampires, but Ms Kane finally cuts in, calm and utterly confident, and settles it, Rich guesses, he isn't really listening. He's busy doggedly chasing down his third orgasm, and doesn't have attention for anything else until Chuck jerks and straightens again, the steady movement of his fingers hitching and pausing. Rich clutches at him and realizes belatedly that Ms Kane is saying, “I believe that's the last item on the agenda, so—”

“Well, frankly,” Webb says officiously, “I really don't feel we dealt with item five in sufficient detail. If you revisit my notes, you'll find…”

Rich wriggles a little against Chuck and feels guilty when it makes the poor dude chirp and shiver, hips jerking up against Rich's ass before subsiding back into tense stillness, but the guilt evaporates when those fingers start moving steady and quick again. The pause was just long enough for Rich to get to the perfect point where Chuck's touch feels incredible, exactly what he needs, and he's coming in another minute.

He lies against Chuck's chest, shivering with aftershocks and panting while Webb's voice drones on in the background, and then Ms Kane interrupts, clear and cool.

“I'm not hearing any new information. We've already been through all these issues and dealt with your concerns, Director Webb. It's time to move on.”

“Oh, Miss—’scuse me, _Ms_ Kane,” Grear says, smirking, “it can't hurt to run over things again just to be sure we didn't miss anything.”

Ms Kane raises her eyebrows at him. “If you feel so strongly about the topic, perhaps you'd like to prepare an in-depth investigation of it for our next meeting.”

Grear's smirk changes into a frown. “I'm a busy man, I don't have time for pet projects.”

“But plenty of time to sit here and revisit the same topic multiple times,” Ms Kane observes. Before he can pull together a response, she goes on, “Director Jones, why don't you arrange the schedule? I'm sure none of us want any more surprises and distractions like we've been dealing with today.”

Rich flinches, but when he cautiously turns his head to get a look from the corner of his eye, she's not even looking at him, disapprovingly or otherwise. Instead she's staring down the Board, one at a time.

“Oh, and make sure to forward it to me beforehand for final approval,” she adds, “so I can make sure everything goes… according to plan.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jones mutters.

“Good,” Ms Kane says. “Meeting adjourned.”

For a minute, no one moves. Everyone’s staring, furtively or blatantly, at Chuck and Rich. Then Julie pushes her chair back, stands up, and walks out. Mike half-rises to his feet, then hesitates as attention shifts to him and the pretty obvious pants situation he’s got going on, his face flushing darker and his ears pulling back in defensive embarrassment.

Chuck stands in one smooth move, scooping Rich up with one arm around his shoulders and one under his thighs.

“Wait,” Webb says, starting up out of his chair too. “Now, hold on just a minute—”

“ _Bite_ me, pal,” Chuck says, and carries Rich bodily towards the door. Mike falls in behind him, cutting short Webb’s ridiculous attempt to walk after them: Webb falters back, going pale at whatever look is on Mike’s face, and Rich feels a gleeful little thrill. Ms Kane’s Burner friends might have to play by Deluxe rules when a meeting is in session, but there’s some pretty clear subtext going on that as soon as Ms Kane’s out of the room, Mike and Chuck are more than willing to remind the bastards that they’re big, fit, strong young men who can tear people’s faces off whenever they fucking feel like it.

Then they’re free, Chuck’s long legs carrying him down the hallway and towards Ms Kane, who’s been waiting for him.

“Julie,” Chuck says roughly, catching up to her. “I can, nnh, I can explain. Uh. What, what—”

“Hang on,” she says. “I’ve called our pod.” The look she gives Rich is startling: openly concerned, like she’s not mad at all, and she’s chewing on her dark lower lip. Mike crowds up behind Chuck, knocking his shoulder against his friend’s, and when Rich looks up at him his face is _right_ there, and he licks his lips again, looking down at Rich like Rich is the most delicious thing he’s ever seen and he wants nothing more than to take a bite. God, Mike Chilton makes monster fangs look so sexy, Rich is _so_ ready for this.

A transit pod with a few comfortable-looking chairs and sofas in it docks against the nearest window, and the three of them step through. As soon as the walls close and the pod departs, Ms Kane says, “So, okay, Chuck—”

“You gonna share, buddy?” Mike says hoarsely.

Rich perks up, wiggling excitedly, but Ms Kane and Chuck react like he just burst into flames, or turned inside out, or something. Chuck takes a sharp step away, holding Rich even more tightly, turning his body to the side as if to protect Rich from what he really, _really_ wants to happen to him, like right now.

“Mikey,” Chuck says tightly. “What the fuck?”

“I, what?” Mike says, and takes a step back towards them. “C’mon, Chuckles, don’t— don’t be like that, you can share, right, we share!”

“Mike,” Ms Kane snaps. “Get ahold of yourself.”

“What?” Mike says again, and pauses. He blinks a few times, stares back and forth between his friends, and goes, “What…” again, but more softly. Then, “Shit. What the _fuck_.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Ms Kane says. “That is _it_ , I’m done.” She rounds on Chuck and reaches out for Rich, who freezes up in sudden terror at high-velocity Kane to the face. But she just grabs his wrist, and when the jolt of heat travels through Rich and grounds itself into her she makes a weird, hissing noise of pure fury, her eyes flaring gold, and rips the bracelet off him like it’s tinfoil and not titanium. Her magic smells like burning gasoline and flares around her hands and through her hair in the same colors, and she’s the most gorgeous thing Rich has ever seen.

“ _There_ ,” she snarls _,_ and throws the twisted silver strip across the room. “Those _bastards_ , those gross old assholes, ensorcelling someone like that!”

Rich stares at his bare wrist in shock. He’s— shit, he’s free, it’s off, he can— he _changes_ , for the first time in three months, falling back into his old body, his familiar favorite body, laughing in incredulous delight, barely aware of the little PRT outfit falling off him in torn pieces. He hits the floor on hands and knees, Chuck draping over him with a startled yelp as his mass doubles and then triples. Rich is _himself_ again, he’s free, he’s big and strong again, male, _right_.

“ _There_ you are, you giant nerd!” Chuck crows, and grabs his face. Rich kisses him with gleeful enthusiasm.

There are roughly three million things Rich wants to say when he pulls back, but the heat is still _there_ , heavy at his groin and all through his body, and what ends up coming out as he looks anxiously at Ms Kane is, “It's gone, right? It's—I can talk about the spell, spells, whatever, so it must be broken. Yeah?”

Ms Kane is looking a little wild around the eyes, Rich notices suddenly, and since she's not actually focused on him, it's not because there's suddenly a huge naked guy right in front of her. “That might be an overly simplified description of the situation,” she says kind of distantly.

“Okay,” says Chuck impatiently, “so what would be more accurate? What's going on, c'mon.”

“Oh, fuck,” Rich says, heart sinking, even as he can feel his dick twitching and filling against his thigh. “It’s not over, is it.”

“No,” Ms Kane says, and gives a nervous, shaky little giggle. She runs her hands over her front, her stomach and hips and the tops of her thighs, her eyes going distant. “No, I, nh. I did that wrong, I think. I broke it wrong.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Chuck says, and pushes himself up to his feet. He sways, hesitating, looking back and forth from Rich to Ms Kane, and the pants over one of his thighs is a slick mess, his own precome and what Rich was dripping, and his fingers are still kind of wet-looking, and he’s flushed all across his face, drowning out his freckles. He’s gorgeous, and Rich can _fuck_ him now. He catches Chuck’s hand, looks up at him pleadingly. God, he wants to fuck him now, so badly, he doesn’t want Chuck to leave him for Ms Kane, Chuck was _his_ friend first, this isn’t fair!

“Can we stop it?” Mike asks. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, and when he meets Rich’s eyes this time he doesn’t smile or wink or look like Rich is delicious, he _flinches_. Rich’s heart sinks further.

“No, I, I think, yeah?” Ms Kane says, and she sounds uncertain. Distracted. She keeps touching herself, looking for something Rich knows she isn’t going to find. “I need, uh… Mike, I just, I need…”

“Is it going to go forever,” Chuck says, with careful enunciation. “Do we need to get you to Jacob?”

“ _No_ ,” Ms Kane says, this time more certain. “No, it’s just, nnh, backlash, it’s, grounding, it’ll. It’ll be done, fade. We can, we can do this, I, I mean, get through it. I’ll— _fuck_ , why, it, nnh—” she cups one of her own breasts, thumb rubbing back and forth over the tip, and her face is full of a confusion that’s awful to look at.

“You can’t touch yourself,” Rich says, and flinches when she looks at him with wide-eyed desperation. “It just makes it worse, you can’t get off on your own. You need a guy to do it for you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chuck hisses. “Did they have that running on you the whole time?”

Mike gives a low, rumbling growl, and turns even further away from the rest of them.

“Yeah,” Rich says, shrugging uncomfortably. “It’s not so bad when no one’s around and you don’t touch yourself. But… I was, uh, pretty worked up, I’m still— _fuck_ , I mean, obviously, y’know. I’m really definitely super down for whatever any of you guys want, here! But like. It, uh. It looks like… Ms Kane is, too. Uh. Sorry. Ma’am.”

“Julie,” Chuck says. “Her name’s Julie. If you call her ‘ma’am’ the whole time it’s gonna be real weird.”

Rich blurts out a high, freaked-out laugh. “Oh, _that’s_ what’s gonna make this weird, baby boy, cool, great, good to know!”

“Blow me, Merrill,” Chuck grouses, ears folding back in embarrassment.

“God, I will,” Rich says, and tugs on his hand. “You c’mere and set Chilton on— on—” wow, he can’t say it, nope, “—her?”

"Yeah, someone, please," Ms Kane gasps.

“Okay. Okay. Good plan.” Chuck looks around the transit pod, then twists his wrist around in Rich’s grip, draws him to his feet. The world spins just a little as Rich rises to his full height, then settles: it feels good. It feels right. This is the size he’s supposed to be, a couple inches taller than Chuck and a  _ whole  _ lot bigger than Chilton and Ms Kane. He rolls his shoulders, sighs with relief. 

“You look good,” Chuck says quietly. 

“You too, kiddo,” Rich says, and scruffles his hair. Chuck just grins at him, and squeezes his hand.

Then he says, “C’mon, Mikey, you too— you and Julie—” and tows Rich off to where a comfortable chair is facing a long sofa. He settles himself into the chair, and Rich drops, eagerly, between his knees. 

“Chuck, you sure about this?” Mike says. “If she’s— if he’s— if the spell—”

“It’s cool, I’m great,” Rich says, and grabs at Chuck’s thighs kind of possessively. 

“Take care of Julie,” Chuck says. “I’ll, I just, I need— dude, I just, please?” He rubs the heel of his hand over the straining line of his erection, trapped against his thigh. Rich knocks his hand away and mouths at it himself, tracing out the wet heat with his lips, enjoying the high plaintive noise it wrings out of his friend.

“Mike,  _ please _ ,” Ms Kane says breathlessly.

“Okay,” Mike says, low and rough. “Okay, I’ll, uh. Jules, c’mere, I got you.”

Chuck tries to nudge Rich onward by helpfully getting his pants open and shoved down, his dick pulled free, but Rich is enjoying getting to hear the noises Chuck makes again. He mouths and nuzzles and kitten-licks until Chuck barely sounds human at all, chittering in frustration, squeaking and chirping. He's actually gotten _louder_ than he used to be, no shame at all anymore, and it's great.

“Look!” Chuck says finally, shrill and cracking, “The sooner you get me off, the sooner you can fuck me, okay?!”

“But Chuck,” Rich says, blinking up at him, “I thought you liked waiting for it!”

Before Chuck can finish sputtering and swearing at him, Rich ducks his head and sucks Chuck down. It's warm and familiar the way Chuck pets frantically at Rich's hair as Rich works on him, sucking and stroking his tongue, head moving smoothly up and down. He can hear other noises in the pod, low choked growling moans as Mike does _stuff_ with Ms Kane, and her rising needy whimpering as she does stuff with him. God, that’s amazing. He wonders if they’re watching him, that would be _fantastic_. The thought of Ms Kane and Mike Chilton watching him suck dick would be enough to make his own dick ache even if there wasn’t a whole bunch of leftover sex magic going on. And it’s such a relief to _have_ a dick again, reassuring and comfortable, which aren’t terms he’d ever have thought to apply to a straining erection before now. It beats the hell out of the miserable chafing burn of a constantly unsatisfied set of girl parts.

He swallows around Chuck’s dick, then, thinking about Mike watching him, he lines up his throat and relaxes, swallowing further, working his way down. Chuck’s definitely gotten bigger since they were kids, which is nice, even if he’s not gonna be setting any records— it’s nice, it’s fine, Rich is enjoying himself. It’s long enough that getting his mouth to the base takes concentration, feels like an accomplishment.

“Oh fuck, you— Rich, shit, _fuck_ ,” Chuck sobs, and grabs fistfulls of his hair, hips jerking hard. Rich realizes he hadn’t worked out this trick, back when they knew each other, and feels smug as hell. He runs his tongue back and forth, swallows hard, once and then again, and Chuck gives a cracked scream and comes apart, shooting down his throat, hips shuddering and bucking hard under Rich’s hand. _God_ , that’s satisfying. Rich stays on him, swallowing over and over, as Chuck whines and shudders and pulls on his hair, and doesn’t ease up until Chuck collects himself enough to put some muscle into shoving Rich back off him.

“The fuck did you learn that, man,” Chuck says hoarsely.

“I went to dick college and majored in cocksucking, kid, where the fuck did you think,” Rich shoots back, and wipes his mouth. His jaw aches now, but it fades even as he works it back and forth a little. _Fuck_ , he missed how fast his body recalibrates itself under normal circumstances.

“Shit,” Chuck says, and drags a shaky hand over his face, down his throat. He looks dazed. “Shit, dude, _goddamn_.”

Rich grins up at him, and gets a soft, incredulous smile in return that makes his heart do a warm kind of throbby thing, and then he has to get up on his knees and tug Chuck in for another kiss. “Missed you,” he mutters when he pulls back. “'D I mention that?”

“You might have, yeah,” Chuck says, running a hand through Rich's hair. “I looked for you when I came back up, got the department, you know, but no one knew where you'd gone, and you'd been deleted from the employee database.” His lips tighten. “They knew you'd disappeared when Larsson was still in charge, but not what he did with you.”

Rich flinches at the memories that brings with it, but before he has to say anything the quiet, rough moaning Mike's been doing somewhere behind him abruptly breaks into a frustrated whine, and Rich looks around.

Ms Kane is sprawled back on the sofa, expensive professional clothes half-torn off her, Mike's head between her bared thighs. Her face is relaxed and blissful as she sighs pleased little sounds. Mike is shirtless, and doesn't seem to be doing as well. By the angle of his arm it looks like he's jerking off, kind of frantic, and even as Rich watches his movement slows and he whines again.

“Oh, shit,” Chuck says suddenly. “Um. Julie, is it possible that until the backlash fades, none of us can get off without help?”

“Mm?” Ms Kane says, and Rich watches alertness break through the pleased daze on her face. “Oh. Shit. Yeah, it's definitely— _mmh_ , possible. Mike—”

“Can I help?” Rich blurts out, and then realizes he interrupted Ms Kane and kind of edges back against Chuck's knee. She doesn't seem to notice, though, just blinks at him and looks back down at Mike.

Mike sits back on his heels, scrubbing the back of a hand across his mouth, and twists around to stare at Rich. He's got every reason to resent Rich for getting him into this—getting all three of them into it, really—Rich just hopes he'll accept apology sex. He really doesn't want Mike pissed off at him, wants the _opposite_ of that—

“What?” Mike says, like he doesn't believe what he heard.

Rich swallows. “I, uh, I just thought I could, you know, suck your dick—or whatever! Whatever you want, really, I'm down, um—I'm really sorry! I, I did my best not to touch you guys, but, uh—”

“Wait,” Chuck says, “dude, what are you even—”

“No,” Mike says, turning more towards them on his knees, and _god_ he looks good half undressed with his dick out, Rich's mouth is watering. Mike's gold eyes are wide and unhappy, though. “Dude, _I'm_ sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that, about sharing, that was seriously gross and I—you don't have to do anything, okay?”

“I figured,” Rich says, blinking at him. “But like, can I?”

Mike bites his lip, pointed fangs digging in. “That's just the spell, though,” he says. “You don't actually _want_ —”

“Sorry,” Rich says in exasperation, “did you miss the part where you're _Mike Chilton?!_ I don't need _magic_ to want to suck your dick, or like, get fucked by you, whatever.”

“Uh,” says Mike, looking kind of poleaxed. Shit, was that too much? Rich can be overenthusiastic sometimes, he's aware.

“Oh my god,” Chuck says, in a tone of dawning delight. “You _like_ him! Rich has a cru-ush,” he sings, “the Tower's got a cru-ush!”

“Fuck you!” Rich yelps, shoving him, which makes the chair skid back a little, whoops. Rich's face is hot, and the heat sweeps down as the blush spreads across his whole body, which is conveniently on display. No one's called him that damn nickname in ages.

“Look, he’s been a fucking _icon_ in our department, okay?!” he growls at Chuck, who's giggling. “Sexy daring rebel hero fighting Kane's fucking Security, _tell_ me you can't see the appeal!” He frowns at Chuck as he says it, wondering if—are they? He kind of assumed, but if Chuck is this amused by Rich crushing on Mike, then maybe they're not actually together.

“Oh, I dunno,” Chuck says, pretending to be thoughtful as he grins at Mike. “Maybe if you’re willing to _settle_.”

Rich rolls his eyes. “Well, fuck you too, Squeaks.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Chuck says in outrage, turning pink, and kicks him in the thigh. Rich smirks victoriously at him.

“Wait, 'Squeaks’?” Mike demands, and he sounds delighted.

“Yeah,” Rich says, and catches Chuck’s leg when he tries to kick again. He wraps his _whole fist_ around Chuck’s ankle, feeling a thrill at his own size, and goes on, ruthlessly, “He was this little baby bat, y’know, way back when, we all called him _Squeaks_.”

“I will kill you, Merrill,” Chuck says, “you’re _dead_!” He does some kind of sinuous, twisting kung-fu move, and knees Rich right in the jaw with his other leg. Startled, Rich falls back, and Chuck pounces on him— they roll over a few times, Rich clumsy with his own size and not exactly keen to crush the kid, and Chuck unexpectedly fit and coordinated and good at fighting now. Rich ends up flat on his back, dick dripping with excitement, Chuck straddling his chest and pinning his arms in a lock— _wings out_.

“Now who’s a fucking _baby,_ ” Chuck says, viciously triumphant, and his wings are _huge_ , pale and freckled and enormous, with scything thumb-claws that flex forward as he stretches them and then mantles around his prey.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Rich says, and laughs unsteadily. “Kid, you got _so hot_ down there, what the _hell_.”

Chuck looks smug. Which, wow, fuck, he really should. Rich tugs Chuck's shirt up a little, runs his hand up the lean line of his stomach— he doesn’t have Chilton’s perfect jock abs, but he’s sure as hell fit and tight and Rich wants to fuck him, pretty desperately, right now.

Oh, except, Mike… is watching them. Touching his dick again, too, squeezing it like he can’t help himself as he stares.

“You were, hhn, you— were friends, right?” he asks them. “When Chuck was in R&D.”

Rich lets his head rest back against the ground. “Yeah, kinda, we— we were interns together, even though I was a couple years older. By the time he bailed on us we were, I dunno, we got along.”

“We gave each other a hand,” Chuck says, and Mike makes a hungry little noise, squeezing himself. So he knows what _that_ means, awesome. Great.

“I could give you a hand, now,” Rich offers. He grins hopefully, and— he feels a little thrill of fear, but— he can do this, okay, and the way Mike was licking Ms Kane, the way Mike was focused on Rich before at the meeting— if Mike’s pretty understandably not into getting his dick sucked by a huge strange man, maybe… Rich takes a deep breath and changes.

It feels good, _god_ , he never really appreciated how good it felt to stretch and change and reshape himself, turn himself this way and that and become new again, different, it’s like exercising a muscle that had been pinned down and cramped for way too long. He can’t make himself back into that awful, tiny little sex-doll cage of a girl shape Larsson had ordered him into, he _can’t_ , he flinches away from even the thought. But he can do… something else, something he bets Mike Chilton might enjoy even more. Tall and lean and fit, he keeps most of his height, he keeps a lot of his muscle, he pulls his face into something sharper and more feminine— narrower jaw, smaller nose, brighter eyes, longer hair, it’s okay, he can do this— he keeps his own hands. Just enough curves at breast and hip to make him sexy, but not enough to weigh him down. A hot, dangerous chick who could keep up with the Burners, who could run and fight and be free...

When he pushes Chuck off him and rolls over, he’s gratified as _hell_ to find that even Ms Kane is staring at him, wide-eyed and unmistakably interested.

“How’s this?” he asks, his voice just a little higher, sweeter, still _his_. “You can have me however you want.”

“Fuck, _wow_ ,” Chuck breathes, and touches his butt, and Rich just manages not to twitch. “Rich, _damn_. You okay like this?”

“I’m fine, I’m great,” Rich says, which is— maybe not strictly true, there's a subtle tension tugging at his gut now, a low unease, but he wants it to be okay, wants to handle this. Chuck’s hand on him feels so much better than any other Director’s, familiar and gentle, and anyway condensing his dick down into a clit and associated parts has left him pretty wildly ready to get fucked by _anyone_ he can get. He can feel himself get slick between his thighs as he shifts to get them under him, kneel up and display himself to Chilton and Ms Kane.

“Is it, is that— the spell?” Mike asks, wild-eyed. “Are we all—!?”

Chuck laughs, and pets up from Rich’s butt, along his back, and tweaks a lock of his shoulder-length hair. “Nah, he’s a shapeshifter, dude. You’re not gonna be growing tits.”

“The spell had you locked to one shape, a shape you didn’t even like,” Ms Kane says, as if realizing something. “ _That’s_ what I was feeling, nnh, I couldn’t— I kept— you felt so…” she squirms, one of her pale, pretty hands rubbing frustratedly between her legs. “I wanted… mm, _fuck_.”

The thought of Ms Kane wanting _anything_ to do with Rich is fantastic. He moves forward on his knees, cautious and hopeful, and makes it over to the couch, kneeling beside Mike. Ms Kane just, _looks_ at him, wide-eyed and hungry, her hips shifting against her hands, like she wants a whole _lot_ to do with him. There’s a bright, flickering hunger in her that isn’t normal or human, that feels a lot like the way Grear would look at Rich sometimes. Like Rich isn’t just something to fuck, something to use, but something to be… used _up_. When Ms Kane reaches out for him, puts a hand flat to his upper chest, over his heart, he flinches at the way he can feel her magic sink right through his skin, probing and intent, then forces himself to be still and take it. He has to close his eyes after a second, but that doesn't help, it feels too much like Grear, then, and he opens his eyes again, breathing faster.

Ms Kane's eyes are unfocused as she… feels him with her magic or something, whatever she's doing. She wouldn't do magic on him without saying something first, would she? She could, she's the CEO, but she seems nicer than that. There's the hunger, though—

“Rich?” Chuck says from behind him.

“Hey,” Mike says to Rich, frowning in concern. “You okay? Jules, maybe, uh—”

Her eyes focus on Rich's face and she jerks her hand away like it stung, that strange feeling of being _explored_ vanishing completely. “Shit! Sorry, I didn't mean to—what happened?”

“Nothing,” Rich gasps, feeling like a moron, “nothing, sorry, I'm just—being dumb, it's fine.”

“It's not fine,” Ms Kane says, frowning at him. “I didn't mean to scare you. What—” she stops. “Who put the spell on you?”

“Grear,” Rich says, reveling in the ability to say it. He's not gagged anymore, he can tell them everything, even if he'd really rather have sex first.

“Right,” Ms Kane says crisply. “He's not going to have the chance to touch you again, magically or otherwise.” She looks a bit uncomfortable, smiling wryly at him. “And I'll be more careful. Sorry about that.” She huffs softly and rolls her hips into her hand again while Rich is still staring in blank astonishment at having the wix CEO of KaneCo _apologize_ to him sincerely.

“It's, um, it's fine,” he repeats lamely, shrugging. It's not really her fault, after all.

“You don't really look fine,” Chuck says from right behind him, and Rich jumps. Then he realizes that kind of proves Chuck's point, and glares back over his shoulder.

“Whatever,” he growls.

“Chuck,” Ms Kane says, breathless, “would you mind helping me out a minute here?”

“Sure,” Chuck says, brushing Rich’s hair aside to kiss the side of his neck. “Just—dude. This all has to be good for you too, okay? Nobody here wants to do anything you don't want.”

“I know,” says Rich, rolling his eyes. With how Mike's been acting, it'd be hard to miss that he's a good guy, and Ms Kane is cool too even if she is wix and kind of scary.

“Good,” Chuck says, and gets up on the couch next to Ms Kane to kiss her.

Rich turns back to Mike. “So, like, is this better?”

“Better than what?” Mike asks, blinking at him. He seems to be having trouble keeping his eyes off Rich's boobs, keeps eyeing them and absently squeezing his dick and then jerking his eyes up to Rich's face again. It's a mix of flattering and unnerving, and Rich is trying really hard to ignore the part of him that thinks it's unnerving. _No one here_ is gonna treat him like he’s had to get used to being treated, they _said_.

“Is this better than the guy shape,” he says patiently. “You want me like this?”

That gets Mike focused completely on his face, frowning. “No? Not, uh, necessarily, I mean, I liked the guy shape fine. I mean—which is _your_ favorite?”

Rich opens his mouth and closes it again, startled by the question. And then even more taken aback when he goes to answer it the way he always would've before—'I don't have a favorite, there's my default shape and all the others and they're all fun'—and can't make himself say it.

“I—I'd rather be a guy, right now,” falls out of his mouth instead, and he bites his lip.

Mike doesn't look annoyed or anything, though, just nods and says, “So change back, dude. Be who you want.”

Rich takes an embarrassingly shaky breath in, then scrubs a hand over his face and changes again— bigger bones, less fat, more muscle. Ms Kane makes a gorgeous noise, wriggling in Chuck’s arms: she fists both hands against the couch cushions, like she’s just barely restraining herself from trying to grab Rich, which is thrilling on a whole lot of levels. That she wants to that badly, and that she still isn’t, even while her eyes flare gold and she’s squirming in place. There’s something about Rich’s powers that’s catnip to wix, apparently. With _this_ wix, Rich thinks maybe he doesn't mind, maybe that's okay, because she's _cool_ about it.

He keeps shifting, back to his familiar, favorite body and then further. Feeling wildly daring, he takes Chuck’s shape, pulls himself up tall and lean. Narrow hips, nice shoulders, a long throat and sharp jaw... He keeps his own skin, his hair color, he still wants to feel like _himself_ , and furthermore being able to copy people _exactly_ can kind of freak them out in a non-sexy way. But for now shape is fine, shape is fun. He brushes his jaw-length hair back from his face, flicks a big, mobile vampire ear, then grins with a bunch of big vampire fangs. Thanks to having just had a refresher on Chuck's body, Rich knows he has everything accurate to the last hair, except for the tweaks he’s chosen himself. It’s very satisfying.

“So I think I’ll be Chuck,” he tells Mike, and drags a teasing hand down the tight, narrow stretch of his stomach. “He makes it look like a good time, right?”

“Yeah,” Mike says hoarsely. “Oh, _man_ , yeah, I. Wow.”

Chuck makes an exasperated groan at him, wonderfully familiar, and Rich just laughs. If Chuck _doesn’t_ have a thing going with Mike, he’s blind and brain-dead: Mike is looking back and forth between Chuck and Rich like all of his hottest dreams just came true at once. Ms Kane is still making soft, hungry noises while Chuck works his hand between her legs, demonstrating exactly where he learned what to do with a clit, but she’s staring right at Rich.

Rich leans forward, touches Mike carefully: a slow, teasing brush of fingers across his jaw, down his throat, his pulse so much more vibrant and obvious and enticing to a vampire’s suite of senses. He rests his hand on Mike’s shoulder and smiles invitingly. Mike gives Chuck a last, wide-eyed look over Rich’s shoulder, then leans in and kisses Rich with intense enthusiasm. His teeth are sharp and he’s got a _long_ tongue, and he crowds up against Rich’s body like he’s worried about Rich somehow calling it off in another second, which is ludicrous for one thing, and unexpected and kind of endearing for another.

Mike's hands come up and cup either side of Rich's chest, set his thumbs against Rich’s nipples, and Rich laughs right into his warm, eager mouth. _Bullshit_ , Chuck isn’t doing anything with Mike. Mike touches Rich like he knows _exactly_ what to be doing with this shape, and is furthermore thrilled to go over it again.

Damn, Chuck's sensitivity is nice from this side, too, the way every teasing brush across Rich's nipples sends shocks of pleasure through him. He's gasping with it after a few minutes, moaning against Mike's lips when Mike kisses him again, and Mike looks smug when he pulls back. Rich isn't sure why Mike is so pleased to be blowing his mind, but he's definitely not about to complain.

For his part, Rich is getting his hands all over Mike, grabbing his ass through his pants, groping his chest and shoulders and back, all sleek, compact muscle. When Rich nips at his neck, careful with vampiric fangs, Mike lets out a growly little moan and tips his head to the side to give Rich better access.

Mike finally reaches down between Rich’s legs, and goes still, pulling back even while Rich gasps and clutches at his shoulders.

“No, uh… no dick?” Mike asks, and rubs a few fingers past Rich’s slick, throbbing clit.

“No lube,” Rich tells him. “And I wanna take yours, please, c’mon, fuck me?”

Mike whines and shivers against him, then presses his fingers in— and it feels— _good_ , right, Rich wants this, he tells himself that fiercely, he _wants_ this, he’s asking for this, it’s okay, he’s okay.

Mike goes still, and Rich realizes he’s kind of— frozen up, breathing quick and shallow, his hands clamped tight on Mike’s shoulders, his thighs tense. Mike pulls his fingers out and Rich makes a shuddering, discordant little screechy noise he only vaguely recognizes from long-ago memories of Chuck’s old freakout sessions. But that’s stupid, that’s not okay, he’s not— he’s not gonna _lose_ it, not in front of Mike goddamn Chilton, not from like two seconds of fingering that he himself asked for! What the fuck, this is ridiculous. It’s Mike, it’s not anyone else, not any of the guys Rich actually had sane reasons to flip out about getting fingered by.

“I like dicks too,” Mike says, softly. He drops a careful kiss on the side of Rich’s neck. “We got lube, man, if you actually want anything like that, we got— anything you want. But you gotta actually want it.”

Rich has to focus on breathing for a minute, relaxing muscles wound tight with stress. He rubs a hand over his face and breathes in slow, breathes out slower, still twitchy and unnerved and feeling like an idiot for it.

“I, yeah?” he says, and Mike nods, and he looks so—honestly concerned, even though he doesn't even _know_ Rich. It's really nice. He's a sweet guy, he means it, he's not mad. Rich isn't in trouble, it's okay.

Rich cautiously shifts back to having a dick, and then squirms for more than one reason while said dick twitches and rapidly gets with the program. He wants to shift more of him than his dick, wants to change again, like a cramped limb wanting to stretch, but—it's ridiculous, he doesn't _need_ to shift this often. It’d be rude to do it more, to just keep changing; no one wants to have sex with someone whose shape and face and _everything_ keeps going into flux, that's gotta be unpleasant. He'll just keep this shape, it's fine, he can control himself.

“Okay, so, what, uh, what can I do? For you?” Rich says, trying to focus.

Mike frowns at him, strokes a hand down Rich's chest. “That's not it, dude. You don't have to do anything _for_ me, I thought we could, like, do stuff together. Have fun. You know?”

Rich nods even though he isn't actually clear what exactly Mike's saying, except about having fun, he gets that. “Okay, so what do you want to do?”

Mike opens his mouth and closes it again, tilting his head thoughtfully to one side. He smiles slowly and his eyes gleam. “I could ride _your_ dick, if that's cool.”

Rich's whole body flushes hot, which probably looks kind of surprising in Chuck's shape, but he's definitely not looking down to check. “Oh,” he says, sounding kind of choked. “I—seriously?!”

Mike nods, grinning fangily.

“Okay! Cool!” Rich says, and tries to scrape his brain back together. “Um, what size?”

Mike's eyes widen and he laughs, intrigued. “Dang, that's right! You can just do whatever, huh?” Through half-lidded eyes, he studies Rich's imitation of Chuck's dick. “I think I liked that really big one you had, it looked like a lot of fun,” he says with a sly look, and Rich swallows.

“Oh, okay,” he says breathlessly, and shifts back to his normal dick, which is large enough most people don't believe it can possibly be his default, he _must_ have adjusted it to impress. He _likes_ that it impresses, granted, but to actually use it with most people he usually has to shrink it some, which is frustrating. To use it full-size with Mike Chilton is—just, holy fuck.

His body doesn't want to resettle after the minor shift, wants to keep going, and it's even harder this time to quell the urge, almost painful. He doesn't want to put Mike off, though, he can't.

“You can _nnh,_ you, can keep shifting,” Ms Kane says, and her voice is rough. Broken up and hesitant, breathless with pleasure, it goes _right_ to Rich’s dick. “I don’t— it’s— fine, you can, if, mm, _Chuck please, fuck_ , ahh. Fuck. Keep, turn, you can— you can be yourself, here, for, for us, _please_.”

Rich gives her a startled look, not sure how she knew he wanted to. Maybe she just thinks that's what shapeshifters are like, that they can't stay the same shape for five minutes?

“Yeah, if you want to, go for it, _we’re_ not gonna judge,” Mike says. “I know I feel kinda crappy after too long playing human.” He shoots a wicked, thoughtful look over at where Chuck is pretty clearly screwing Ms Kane’s brains out, three fingers into her and his other hand roaming all over. “And I’m getting the idea that Jules here is enjoying the show.”

“Ffff, _hah_ , fuck you,” Ms Kane says, “He can— _god_ , do, he can do what he wants, but— but if— if that’s, _fuck,_ I, ah, I want— I’d— please—”

Wow. _Wow_. Okay. Rich shifts back to his big, familiar shape, and this time the witch can’t stop herself from reaching for him: she makes a high, desperate-sounding keening noise and Chuck laughs, startled, as she surges forward and grabs Rich's shoulders.

“Please,” she says, wide-eyed, demanding. Magic flares around them, wild and ungrounded, burning golden gasoline. “Please, I, can I just— _please_ ,” and Rich knows a lot of this is the spell, has personal experience with needing to come so badly you’d let anyone do anything to you, but what she’s asking him for is something else. Changing, letting her feel him do it, meshing their magic together. He can do that. She’s not Grear, she’s _asking_ , she’d stop, probably, even this hot and bothered, she’d stop.

“Yeah,” he says, “cool, yeah,” and he shifts again, keeps shifting as she leans in and kisses him like she’s trying to drink his face. He can feel Mike touching his back, petting up and down as it goes from broad to narrow to soft to built, and Chuck moves up behind Julie and gets his fingers back between her legs.

It's crazy, Rich is surrounded by ex-Burners, by the CEO and her favorite directors which happen to be _Squeaks_ and _Mike Chilton_ , and they're all over Rich, they're _into_ him. Rich keeps being astonished about the whole situation.

He's even more astonished when he shifts one more time, into someone broad and sturdy and soft around the middle, kind of like a young red-haired Ben, and Ms Kane bites his lip and buckles against him, shaking. Chuck has a fond look on his face as he strokes her through it. Mike is alternating between staring at her and at Rich, and he looks straight-up hungry. Rich is feeling pretty fucking hungry himself, _god_ he needs to get off.

“Wow,” he says in a low rasp, and brushes a slowly-shifting hand cautiously over Ms Kane's long, newly-disheveled hair, letting his fingers get longer, broader, with thicker knuckles. She catches her breath and shivers.

“Fuck,” she mutters, pushing hair out of her face. She smiles at Rich, looking a little sheepish but also sort of smug. “Okay, wow, we definitely have to do that again sometime. In better circumstances.”

Rich manages to nod jerkily after a second, but he has to run over it a few times in his head before it makes sense. Ms Kane wants to… feel him shifting, which didn't hurt, she didn't do any of the stuff Grear did, and which also helped her get off. Is that like, sex? She didn't say that, and it was more like making out, but either way, holy fuck. That's—Ms Kane is interested in him. Just. Wow.

“Okay,” he says to Mike kind of urgently, shifting back to his usual big shape, “so that lube you were talking about—”

“Got it,” Mike says, and practically leaps across the pod to—one of the chairs? Which he then reaches _into_ and the chair fizzes and vanishes in a glitchy burst of static, revealing… something? Rich is pretty sure that’s a multi-compartment stasis cabinet, but it’s so covered in paint and stickers it looks more like a rainbow had a very square egg. The fizzing and glitching roll out from Mike’s touch after that, sweeping through the pod. The whole pod’s been put under holograms, apparently, and when Mike crashes them, it reveals that the floor’s covered in a wild array of neon-colored arrows and stars and weirder glyphs, cats and bats and tentacle monsters.

Ms Kane goes, “Oh, mm,” and snaps her fingers, and the pod’s clear walls give a flicker, then go the slightly ultraviolet purple-ish dark that means their force-screens are one-way, now. The furniture shimmers and fades into color, too: it looks shabbier, stranger, older. The legs are gnawed and battered wood, the fabric a dozen different patterns, ripped and then taped back shut. The chair Rich blew Chuck on is a grease-stained mustard yellow, with Nine Lives’ jagged cat-headed number 9 painted in stark black paint across the seatback. Another chair is threadbare green corduroy, with an old red stop sign nailed to the back, and a lumpy dog bed on the seat. The couch they’re all sprawled on and against is red leather, shot with grey cracks, and one of the armrests has been gnawed down to shreds, patched back together again with silver duct tape, then gnawed further.

“Old things have power,” Ms Kane says, seeing Rich’s wide-eyed confusion at how the _CEO of Kane Co_ has stocked her pod with a bunch of dirty garbage. She smiles gently at him, and goes on, “The miles anyone or anything travels build up inside them, you know? If I’ve got to stay up here and keep things going, I’m not gonna do it on _printed_ furniture.”

“Mikey doesn’t like the way nanofoam gets caught in his teeth, anyway,” Chuck smiles, and Mike makes a quietly offended noise as he comes back over.

“Like you don’t get jumpy when nothing smells right, too,” he says, and elbows the kid in the head as he moves past him. Chuck just laughs, agreeing, and a minute later Rich understands what they mean by ‘right’, and his chest does an odd sort of clenching thing. They mean, smelling like before they came back up to Deluxe, even Chuck. Because _home_ for him isn’t a safe, quiet cubicle in Data Management anymore, it’s Motorcity.

It stings to realize, but—even so, Chuck is here now, and he still likes Rich, and he's not leaving again without warning, so it's okay.

And also Mike Chilton is in front of Rich now, dropping lube and condoms on the floor and stripping off his pants, so this is definitely not the time to be lonely and reflective. This is a good time to stare like a pathetic, thirsty bastard. Because _fuck_ but Mike is unfairly gorgeous.

“Okay, let's do this,” Mike says, dropping to his knees, and starts rolling the condom onto Rich's dick.

Rich makes a little groaning noise at the contact and grabs his wrist. “Don't you need to, y’know, get ready?”

“I'm pretty dang ready, dude!” Mike says, waving at his painfully flushed, precome-slicked dick, and finishes getting the condom on with his other hand when Rich doesn't let his wrist go.

“No, but—you know, I mean, getting stretched and stuff,” Rich says nervously. “Man, I don't wanna hurt you!”

Mike laughs, slicking Rich up. “You're not gonna hurt me, I'm wer, we're tough! Also, it's not like I've never done this before,” he says with a wry look.

“It's seriously not,” Chuck says smugly.

“No _offense_ , baby boy,” Rich says in a slightly shrill voice, “but you're not really in the same league!”

“Hey, I'm in the _league_ ,” Chuck says. “I'm like, a new and unproven member, maybe, but—”

“ _Oh god,_ ” Rich says as Mike straddles his lap and starts to sink down. He grabs for Mike’s hips, and Mike just moans happily and squirms when Rich holds him in place.

“ _Strong_ ,” Mike says, like that’s awesome, and braces his forearms on Rich’s shoulders, trying to bear down. Rich takes a deep breath, struggling not to slam himself upwards and murder Mike goddamn Chilton with his dick, and stretches himself bigger and broader, piling on muscle over long, heavy bones. When he’s pretty sure he can match a stupid-horny wer no matter what the guy tries, he starts moving again, taking deep breaths as he just works Mike up and down a little bit at a time, teasing the head of his dick an inch or two back and forth. Mike fights him, like Rich had guessed he would, squirming and whining, baring sharp white fangs as he strains to go faster. But Rich _recognizes_ this level of desperation, and is pretty sure that if Mike gets to slam himself down as hard as he wants, Rich is gonna end up with his dick lodged somewhere in one of the guy’s fucking lungs.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Chuck murmurs, from somewhere off to the side, and Rich spares a glance over to see how he’s doing. He’s slouched back against a tattered armrest, running his thumb slowly up and down his dick, which is hard again and a very nice pink against his pale stomach. His other arm is around Ms Kane’s shoulders as she lies back against him, combing her tangled hair out with her nails. They’re both watching Rich and Mike with open, unabashed delight.

“Take it slow,” Ms Kane says, and there’s nothing broken or hesitant in her voice right now. It’s pure steel command. “Make him beg for it.”

Mike _whines_ , a high miserable canine noise, and goes, “Jules, _fuck_ , aaahh, _”_ like she just shot him. But he stops fighting Rich quite so hard, lets him have control. Rich isn't really sure about his ability to make Mike Chilton beg for anything, but… he can try, he guesses?

He keeps at it, working his way in slow and steady and adding plenty more lube as he goes, and Mike whines and growls and wriggles. But Rich feels the tight clench loosening gradually around him, sliding more easily up and down. Finally he can let Mike sink all the way down, watching his face to make sure it's not too much.

Mike lets out a soft little shocked moan, eyes wide, and one _second_ later immediately pushes against Rich's grip, trying to start riding him.

“No!” Rich says in annoyance. “Take it _easy_ , man!”

“Mikey doesn't know what that means,” Chuck snorts as Mike whines pointedly at Rich, squirming.

“Is it too much?” Rich presses. “Should I—”

“ _No_ ,” Mike gasps, “feels great, come _on_ , lemme move!”

Rich almost lets him go, and then he tilts his head to one side. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, the backs of his shoulders prickling with uncertainty, “you haven't asked nicely yet.”

Mike doesn't even hesitate. “Please! Please lemme move, okay?”

“Hmm,” Rich says, shooting a look at Ms Kane and Chuck. Ms Kane smiles at him and Chuck makes a hand-wavering gesture of ‘well, maybe’, smirking meanly.

Starting to enjoy himself, Rich keeps his grip firm on Mike's hips and says, “You know, I'm not sure I trust you not to hurt yourself if I let you ride me.”

“What?” Mike says in dismay. “No, come on, dude, I can—”

“I think,” Rich cuts him off, “maybe I should fuck you instead.”

Chuck lets out a small, choked chirp, and Ms Kane says, “Woo!” which is a relief. Rich wondered if he was going too far.

But Mike's eyes widen and he grins breathlessly, as though he has no concerns about that idea at all. “Don’t keep me waiting!” he says. “C’mon, _please_!”

“Alright, hold on,” Rich says, and lifts up carefully on his knees, holding Mike close. Mike just whoops cheerfully and grabs for Rich’s neck, letting Rich get him up on the couch so his shoulders hit the squashy red backrest, and Ms Kane and Chuck have a nice sidelong view of the action. Bracing himself, Rich tries for a slow, careful further thrust: it works alright, the couch doesn’t skid out from underneath him or collapse, and Mike makes a beautiful little huff of shock. When Rich draws his hips back a little, Mike lets go of his neck in favor of clutching at the couch, bracing himself, moaning softly.

Okay. Cool. This is gonna work _great_. Mike keeps whining as Rich draws himself almost all the way out, plaintive like he thinks Rich is just gonna give up and go home or something. Rich pushes back in _fast_ , a sweet sharp rush of satisfaction, and Mike actually _yelps,_ claws punching through the upholstery, and Rich grunts, “ _Hang on, man,”_ and starts in on actually fucking him. Carefully, trying to focus on his coordination and timing, but nice and fast and hard. God, it’s been ages since he’s gotten to do this with _anyone_ , it feels so good, this is _awesome_. Pressure and release, an uncomplicated rising satisfaction, and Mike is whining louder and louder, shamelessly needy.

“Touch yourself,” Rich says.

“But, I, it won’t, I, ha _aah_ ,” Mike says, and his teeth are almost too long and sharp for the words to be comprehensible.

“Yeah, touch yourself,” Ms Kane says. “Work yourself up some more, I wanna hear it.”

Chuck gives a soft little whimper at that, and Rich glances to the side, still working himself back and forth in Mike, to see Chuck staring flushed and wide-eyed, his own hand playing not-so-idly with his own dripping dick. Ms Kane’s turned under his arm to toy with his chest, one of her thighs thrown over his, grinding herself slowly and luxuriantly against his leg, and when she catches Rich looking she _grins_ , wide and wicked. She looks like she’s having a great time— and she should, she should be, no one like her should ever have bad sex, it’s probably all kinds of illegal. It’s great, it’s fine, Rich is happy for her. He’s— it’s fine. He’s doing great.

He fucks Mike harder, and stroke by stroke Mike goes from whining to howling. His hand works over the deep red flush of his dick, slick dripping down through his fingers, and his voice goes hoarse and cracked and helpless as Rich keeps pounding him. He can’t get off like this, Rich _knows_ , the pleasure of his own hand is never going to be enough and it’ll keep anything else from being enough, either. Rich could keep him on one dick or another for hours and he’s just gonna scream himself silent and it won’t be enough—

Rich isn’t sure how much trouble he’s gonna be in, messing with Ms Kane’s plan, but he _has_ to. He bats Mike’s hand away from himself and takes over stroking him, giving him what he needs. Mike screams, convulsing against him as he tries to grind back on Rich’s dick and jerk forward into Rich’s hand, and Rich can feel the awful, familiar magic ricocheting between them, sick and compelling, relentlessly hot. The kind of good that’s never, ever finished. But Mike comes, shooting off against Rich’s chest, his head lolling dazedly against the couch backrest, tears in his eyes, and the sense of triumph carries Rich over the edge himself only a few thrusts later. He shudders through it, reveling in the feeling of _power_ along with the pleasure. Mike came because of him, because he got fucked by Rich and not anyone else, Rich got him off, he’s good, he’s fine, he’s _great_.

Panting, he gives Ms Kane a smug, victorious smirk before he thinks better of it— then he sort of gets his brain back together and realizes that that’s literally insane. That’s a crazy person thing to have done. But she doesn’t seem to care, she just grins at him like he really is fine.

“Nice work!” she says. “That was _super_ hot.”

“Thanks,” Rich says, his face heating.

“Ag _-ah_ —agreed,” Chuck gasps, and Ms Kane goes back to hungrily watching him touch himself and writhe.

Rich hastily looks away, back to Mike, whose breath is slowing down as he smiles dazedly at the ceiling. “You doing okay?” Rich asks.

Mike laughs. “Dang, dude, are you kidding? That was _awesome!_ ”

“I know,” Rich says with a bit of a smirk. “That's not what I asked, though. Are you, um, I didn't go too rough, did I?” He feels like an idiot even as he asks, because Mike is _wer_ , and he _told_ Rich to go for it, it sounds so dumb to even assume Rich could hurt the guy—but he remembers how it felt to be used roughly and showed no concern afterwards. He's not gonna do that, like, ever, he wants to be sure it's okay for real.

Mike grins at him, but it doesn't look mocking, like he thinks Rich is being dumb. “No, buddy, you were fine! Better than fine, that was great! We gotta do that again sometime.”

Rich blinks and nods a little disjointedly. Okay, so. Both Ms Kane and Mike Chilton want to do more stuff with Rich? He's not sure he can mentally surround that right now, it's too unlikely. Too _fantastic_ , as in something straight out of his fantasies back before—everything. ‘What if three of the Burners carry me away and they all think my dick is awesome and wanna take turns to ride it’, that kind of thing.

Mike pulls carefully off Rich, then sprawls back against the cracked upholstry with a smug, sleepy smile as he watches what's going on at the other end of the sofa. Rich takes maybe a little more time and care than he might strictly need to strip the condom off, knot it, and drop it to the ground where hopefully no one’s gonna step on the damn thing and break their neck— then nerves himself up and looks over at what’s happening to Chuck.

Ms Kane is perched on Chuck's lap now, still playing with him, touching him, occasionally leaning in to kiss him, all with that gleeful look on her face. Chuck is flushed and dazed-looking, stroking himself jerkily and gasping for breath. His muscles are twitching and he tips back his head and moans, ears pinned back and quivering with tension.

“'M close,” he gasps, “I gotta, gotta stop.”

“Don't bother,” Ms Kane says, grinning at him. “You literally _can't_ come. And I'm not going to let you stop.”

His dark eyes widen and he shudders all over. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, cracked and warbling, and _writhes_ , and obediently keeps touching himself.

Rich has to close his eyes and breathe, but he can still hear Chuck's helpless little noises, gasps and whimpers and chirps as Ms Kane keeps touching him and won't let him get there. Rich's stomach is knotting up tighter and tighter, his chest clenching, and it's so _stupid_ because Chuck liked the edging thing back when Rich knew him, of _course_ he still likes it, he probably loves this—but every instinct from the past three months of Rich's life says he's suffering. He's straining for a peak he'll never reach, he needs it, aches for it, he'll stroke himself raw trying to get there, and he _can't_. And Ms Kane and Mike are just letting him, enjoying it.

Rich's hands clench on his thighs. He takes another breath and opens his eyes to try to convince himself Chuck is enjoying this, but Chuck's brows are knit together, eyes hazy and half-aware as he twists and shivers under Ms Kane. He _looks_ pained and lost and Rich knows sex-faces are like that sometimes but his heart is clenching up with his lungs, he _can't_ say anything because this is _stupid_ , he's being _dumb_ , but he can't breathe and he doesn't want Chuck hurting and he doesn't know what to do—

“Hey,” Mike says, and a hand touches Rich's shoulder, making him twitch and gasp. Mike frowns at him in concern. “You okay, dude?”

Rich stares at him, looks at Chuck, back to Mike.

“I… um...” The rational voice saying how stupid this is, don't say it, you'll make Mike Chilton think you're a dumbass, is being drowned out by the one screaming _help him!_ “He's, he, with— the spell, he needs it,” Rich finally says helplessly. He glances from Ms Kane to Mike, not sure if he's talking to her or begging Mike to intercede. “Don't make him wait until it hurts, he’ll, he can’t— he won’t. It’s, um, it’s, not... You can do it to _me_ , okay? Do it to me, I'm used to it, just—I, please.”

“Ah, geez,” Mike says, still frowning but smiling a little too. “You're a really good guy, aren't you?”

“I,” Rich says blankly. “Uh. Okay.”

“Crap, sorry,” Ms Kane says, and she's looking at Rich, she's apologizing to Rich, _again_. “I wasn't paying attention. We didn't mean to freak you out.”

“Wait, what?” Chuck mumbles, struggling out of his sex-daze. “Who’s freaked out?”

“Rich,” Ms Kane says, and embarrassment swells up and crashes over Rich because of _course_ they're not doing anything to Chuck he doesn't want, everything is fine, Rich really is a moron.

“No, I'm—it's fine, I'm fine,” he mumbles, face flaming as he stares at the sofa cushions.

“Oh, damn, dude, why didn't you say something?” Chuck says, completely ignoring that to frown at him.

“Well, _shit,_ kid, I dunno!” Rich says, throwing his hands up in annoyance. “Why the fuck would I _not_ say, ‘hey, stop doing that thing you're probably really enjoying, knowing you and your dumb edging thing, I'm an idiot and it's making me feel a little weird today’! I can't think of any reason, can you?!”

“Then you’re not thinking at all, genius,” Chuck retorts, “‘cuz there’s _lots_ of them!” and he pulls his hand off his dick with way less apparent effort than it should take. God, Rich has had sessions where he _fought_ to keep touching himself, when it took strong hands wrenching his hands away from his junk before he tore himself up, and he’d get so crazy for more he’d _bite_. And Chuck just does it like it’s nothing.

“Well, fuck you too, you little smartass,” Rich says, glaring.

Instead of snarking back, Chuck smiles at him fondly, patting Ms Kane on the thigh. As she climbs off his lap, he tells Rich, “I missed you, you big dick,” which is just—cheating, Rich is pretty sure. There's no comeback when someone's just being provokingly sweet to you. And then he completely negates any possibility of a clever response by scooting down the sofa, leaning over and kissing Rich. Like a _jerk_. A jerk who's _really_ good at kissing.

“So, since we're adults now,” Chuck says when he pulls back, “are you going to use your words and tell us what you want, or what?”

“Fine!” Rich says, and looks at Ms Kane, half cautious and half challenging even though that's _stupid_. So Rich can’t stop being dumb even if his life depends on it, so what else is new. “I wanna get him off again,” he says.

“Sounds good to me!” she says, grinning instead of offended. “Did you have a preference as to how? I wouldn't mind seeing you fuck him into next week like you did Mike, but it's your choice, of course.”

“Uh,” Rich says, taken aback, “I, uh, I guess we'll figure that out when we get there?”

Ms Kane just nods agreeably, so Rich relaxes a little and kisses Chuck again. Chuck tugs him up to sit on the sofa next to him and they just make out for a while.

God it's nice to be touched by someone he wants, to be touched by _Chuck_ , to be able to touch him back. Rich gets maybe a little frantic just thinking about it, how long it's been since he was free like this and how much he missed Chuck, kissing desperately, and Chuck just pulls him closer, kisses him firm and slow and gentles him down again. He strokes Rich's hair and hums into his mouth, nibbling his lips until Rich snorts and nips him back, relaxing into a more chill, playful mood.

Eventually Rich pulls back, eyes narrowed with a fun idea. He glances down the sofa to where Mike’s joined Ms Kane, the wer lazily touching her as she squirms and twitches against him, bright-eyed and worked up all over again, moving eagerly against Mike’s steady hands… Rich grins, and shifts.

“Dude,” Chuck says, and he's probably trying to sound annoyed or disapproving, but it doesn't really work when his eyes are that wide and his ears are both tilted directly forward with interest.

“What, _dude_?” Rich says innocently in Mike's voice, to match the body.

Ms Kane lets out a startled laugh. “You look good as a redhead!” she says.

Oh, right. Rich focuses a little better and shifts his colors, too.

“Wow!” Mike says. “That's… huh.” He sounds kind of stunned. “Is that, like, is that… really me?”

“Every inch, yep,” Rich says, pleased with himself. He’s tried out an approximation of Mike’s body before, in private, reconstructing the body from video footage and guesswork. But now he’s had Mike— up close, fuck, he’s _had_ Mike, had him under his hands and tongue-fucking his mouth and split open on the full length of his dick, now he knows Mike’s body down to every last little detail. He can tell that Chuck’s checking him out, looking for misplaced scars or missing moles, and he just _grins_ , smugly, and hooks an athletically muscled arm around Chuck’s shoulder, looking up at him through dark eyelashes.

“Wanna take me for a spin, buddy?” he says, because cheesy car metaphors seem like a great idea right now. “If the original model over there couldn’t talk you into trying him out, you _know_ I’m good for a ride.”

Mike makes a strangled noise, then starts laughing along with Julie. “Yeah, Chuckles, go for it!” he says. “We _know_ you want to.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, I— okay,” Chuck says, and fits his hands on the sharp angles of Rich’s hips. “Just— jeez. Fuck. Be gentle with me, dude, I’ve never done this before!”

Rich starts laughing, too, and has to rest his head against Chuck’s shoulder.

“You _little shit_ ,” he manages. “Remind me why I wanted anyone here to go _easy_ on you.”

“I’m surrounded by crazy people, and unfortunately you’re one of them,” Chuck says, and flicks him rudely on the stomach. “C’mon, are we doing this, or what?”

“Depends on the _this_ and the _what_ ,” Rich shoots back, and doesn’t remember that they’ve had pretty much this exact back-and-forth before until Chuck giggles and ruffles his hair.

“I’ve got some ideas. C’mere.” And Chuck lifts his hips up, pulls him to straddle Chuck’s lap, rub their dicks together. Chuck’s is already slick with precome, but Mike leans forward and hands him the lube as soon as he holds a hand out, like they’ve already got some kind of established signal for that, which is frankly adorable and really convenient. Rich is all kinds of sweaty and slick and warmed up from having had a hell of a lot of sex already, but his dick’s still only just a bit past half-hard, so he appreciates the soft, smooth glide of extra lube as Chuck pulls him close and starts grinding. He’d forgotten the way orgasm hit when you’ve got a dick, how it sinks in and slows you down for a good while. He’d forgotten about refractory periods.

Chuck tugs him down for more kissing, then nips at his neck and Rich makes a startled breathy noise at the jolt of— _something_ , something good—that goes through him. Pulling back, Chuck gives him a very pointy grin before raking his nails hard down Rich's sides. Rich opens his mouth to yelp and finds himself moaning instead, because it hurts, yeah, but that feels _good_ , the pain is a good thing suddenly.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Rich says breathlessly, shooting a wide-eyed look over at Mike, who grins at him a little quizzically. “No _wonder_ you were all about my dick!” Rich tells him, too stunned to watch his mouth. “You like it pretty fucking rough!”

“Well, _yeah_ , dude,” Mike agrees, shrugging.

“He definitely likes fucking rough,” Chuck snickers, and starts biting along Rich's collarbone, barely gentle enough to not pierce the skin with his fangs. Rich would normally tell him to cut it the fuck out, except every bite is a shocking bolt of pure excitement that goes straight to Rich's dick, and he doesn't want it to stop.

He sucks in a deep breath, and—he can smell Chuck, the leather and blood scent of _vampire_ in the specific scent of Chuck himself, Rich can smell Ms Kane's slick on his skin, Rich's own slick on the thigh of his pants, can smell Chuck's desire and gleeful amusement—

“Dude,” Chuck says, laughing again, “you really _are_ Mike right now.”

“Mm?” Rich says, distracted by trying to separate out and identify threads of scent, and then suddenly realizes that his nose is pressed to Chuck's shoulder. Kind of embarrassed, he means to pull away, except—Chuck is having sex with him, smells like him right now but not _right_ , not enough, and Rich finds himself rubbing the corners of his mouth against Chuck's skin, back and forth.

Mike makes a soft whuffing noise of displeasure and Rich lifts his head, indignant. He has a right to scent-mark his—mate, his—oh, uh. Wow.

Okay, so he maybe got taken off-guard by the werewolf instincts there. But even if Chuck isn’t his— _his_ , his possession, his to guard and take and keep—they’re still friends, they’re still _fucking_. Rich can rub himself all over Chuck if he wants to and Mike can’t say shit about it unless Chuck does.

“Hey,” Chuck says, and closes a strong, long-fingered hand on the back of Rich’s neck. Squeezes hard, admonishing. “Hey, take it down a notch, buddy.”

Rich licks his fangs, looks pointedly away from the extended challenging glare-session he’d just been having with Mike. So Chuck _did_ say shit, okay, he can deal with that. Fine. Whatever. He leans in and licks Chuck’s throat, because he’s here and he can and it’s great, actually. Chuck tastes _so_ good, sweat salt-rich on his skin and a dozen vibrant scents all pressing up against Rich’s tongue. And Chuck just laughs and keeps holding on to Rich’s scruff, squeezing and rubbing, keeping him close, reassuring. Rich wants to get his mouth on _all_ of his friend, every part he can reach, but he stays where he’s put and enjoys licking and nuzzling and nipping Chuck’s throat, thoroughly claiming what he’s been given.

Chuck chirps and chirrs quietly, appreciative, and finally goes, “...Huh.”

“Mm,” Rich says, rubbing against Chuck's jaw and not really paying attention.

“Have you ever tried being wer, but _you?_ ” Chuck asks.

“Mm?”

“Rich! Come on, dude.” The hand on the back of his neck tightens and shakes him a little, and Rich gasps and straightens up, trying to rewind what he just heard.

“Uh! Uh, wer but me—oh. I, yeah, I tried it back when I was testing things out as a kid, and it didn't really work, I don't think…” He squints, intrigued. “I should totally try that, I might know how to do it now.”

“Yeah, you should!” Chuck says, grinning.

Rich shifts back to his own shape, but focuses on keeping the werewolf aspect—the gold eyes, the teeth, the pointed ears, and all the overwhelming instincts, scent-related and otherwise. It feels _weird_ , and he can feel his interior waver for longer than usual as he feels his way into the shape he's trying for, but then Chuck makes an intrigued noise and—Rich has it, he thinks, he's got this. He opens his eyes.

“Whoa,” Chuck says, grinning. “You look good!”

Rich runs his tongue over big, wolfish fangs, flicks an ear, looks down at himself. Pale and red-haired and big again, nails a little sharper and thicker than human, arm hair coming in thick enough to be fur on the back of his forearms and around the elbows. _Extremely_ fuzzy thighs. Dick a little more reasonably sized than his default, and— kind of different, not enough to be gross, or weird, he hopes, but— still. Not entirely human. It's narrower at the tip, and bulges slightly near the base.

Rich doesn’t think he could go all the way wolf, but he could shift a little farther than this if he wanted, he thinks, could get claws and maybe the ridge of fur down his spine. Mike looks more human than that right now, though, so Rich is going to follow his lead.

“ _Nice_ ,” Ms Kane breathes. “Can you do the tail?”

“Jules!” Mike says, sounding a combination of scandalized and amused.

“What! I'm just asking!”

Well, Rich _wasn't_ going to shift any farther, but if Mike thinks he can't or shouldn't, maybe he will. He gives Mike a sidelong challenging look and changes further, and that’s… wow, okay, that’s _different_ , not reshaping himself like a shifter but changing like a wer. It’s less recreating himself and more… becoming something he already is. Like walking into a different room instead of rearranging the whole thing entirely, maybe. His ears get bigger, higher up, more mobile; sounds get even clearer, scent more engaging, colors less important— he thinks he might be colorblind now, but doesn’t particularly care. Thick fur paints a stripe down his spine from his hairline, and he— yeah, there, he gets a tail.

 _Suck_ it, Chilton. He licks his nose at the guy, smug as hell, tail wagging jauntily back and forth, and kneads his sharp nails on Chuck’s shoulders. Who’s the better werewolf here, huh?

Mike's eyes have narrowed and he's not smiling anymore, not even in annoyance. His lips are pulling back a little from his fangs, and if he's not growling yet, it's only a matter of time. Which is fine with Rich, bring it on! He's bigger than Mike, he can totally take him!

“Hey,” Chuck says firmly.

“What,” Rich says, still focused on staring down Mike.

Chuck sighs, and then there are firm hands yanking at Rich's shoulders, bending him down, and Chuck's mouth lands on the back of Rich's neck, and—his teeth clamp down _hard—_

Rich twitches, yelps, hunches in on himself, whining soft and apologetic. He screwed up, he didn't mean to. Chuck isn't mad yet, just being stern, which is good, Rich wasn't trying to make him mad.

Chuck eases up the grip of his jaw and then lets go, lets Rich straighten up again. Rich immediately lifts his chin to expose his throat, tail thumping softly against Chuck's knee. He gets it, he's got it, he won't pick any fights, Chuck is in charge.

“Good,” Chuck says, grinding up against Rich's dick, and Rich moans. The back of his neck still aches a little, not enough for Chuck to have broken skin, but probably bruised. It keeps Rich humble and apologetic, not pushing even though he wants more than that glancing friction.

“Hmm,” Chuck says, eyeing Rich's dick, wraps a hand around it and squeezes gently. Rich's hips jerk as pleasure lances through him, unexpectedly bright and sharp, and he lets out a strangled whine. Squeezing isn't usually what he wants, but _fuck_ it feels good right now. Precome rolls down his dick, slicking Chuck's grip, and Rich doesn't usually get this wet, it must be a wer thing, but he's not complaining at all.

“Hey, Mike,” Chuck says, “grab me a ring, will you?”

“Hah! Nice,” Mike says, grinning, and Ms Kane stops leaning on him so he can get up. Chuck's hand is still on Rich's dick, fingers idly shifting and rubbing, and it keeps him thoroughly distracted until Mike hands something to Chuck.

Chuck's grin at Rich is full of fangs. “I think you're gonna want to lie down for this,” he says, and nudges Rich off his lap, guiding him down on his back with his tail carefully tucked down between his legs. Then Rich realizes his head is going to be resting in Ms Kane's lap and freezes, propped up on a forearm, legs stretched across Chuck's lap.

“Come on!” Ms Kane says, tugging on Rich's shoulder, and he tentatively relaxes back, his head on her thigh. He can smell how wet she is, and his mouth is watering with it.

“Look at you,” she says, ruffling a hand through his hair. “You've gone brindled, there's orange and black and brown bits in there.”

“Oh, uh, cool,” says Rich, who has more pressing things on his mind than hair color.

Chuck grabs Rich's dick again and slides something cool and smooth down around it, settling it just under the bulge in the shaft. Rich looks down to see a bright blue polymer ring around his dick, and kind of freezes up a little. It's not that he thinks Chuck's gonna do anything bad to him, so there's no reason to remember the moment he realized the bracelet wouldn't come off, and how it just seemed like harmless jewelry until Grear—

Stop thinking about it, shit.

"Hey, you okay?" Chuck asks, stroking Rich's leg and frowning in concern. "I can take it off, if you want. I thought you'd like it."

"It feels really good," Mike chimes in, leaning over Rich so he's upside down. "But you don't have to try it if you don't want."

"No," Rich says, "'s fine, I'm fine." It's not permanent, it won't enspell him, it's okay. He can do this.

Suddenly the ring tightens, pressing against his dick's bulge, which is actually significantly bigger than it was a couple of minutes ago, and all the air goes out of Rich in a whine. His back arches and his hands scrabble at the leather of the couch as pleasure goes through him in a wave, sweeping the tension and anxiety away.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Mike says, and all Rich can manage in response is an amazed whimper.

“Werewolves, in their mid-range form,” Chuck says, thumb gliding up and down Rich's shaft, making him quiver, “develop a wolf-like knot on the dick, which is pressure-sensitive. You feel like you're about to come at any minute, don't you?”

Rich nods, moaning shakily.

“And the fun thing is, you are,” Chuck says, and wraps his hand around Rich's dick right above that ring, and squeezes, and Rich makes a choked little sound and comes. The pleasure rolls through him in a slow wave that seems endless, one ripple after the next. It's less intense than a normal orgasm, but it doesn't _stop_. Chuck keeps squeezing Rich's dick in a gentle, steady rhythm, and reaches up with the other hand to pinch and tug at Rich's nipples, and the pleasure just keeps going.

After a minute his gasping breaths turn into whining, and he stares in shivery bewilderment at Chuck, and then up at Ms Kane. “Wh-why—what's— _nnh_ —”

“A knot's good for some things!” Ms Kane says, rubbing at the base of one of Rich's ears, which feels ridiculously good on top of the continuing orgasm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rich manages, and gives himself over to it. Ms Kane plays with his ears, which are very sensitive at the tips, and strokes his lips, and Mike runs fingers through his hair, and Chuck keeps messing with Rich's nipples and dick and just— _touching_ him, playing with him, it's totally unfair. He lifts one of Rich's twitching, trembling legs and hooks it over the back of the couch, strokes his balls and the base of his tail, and leans in to press sharp little nips up the inside of Rich's thigh, which should hurt too much to be enjoyable except apparently werewolves have a thing for biting, and it just makes Rich whimper louder as he keeps coming.

He doesn't know how long it's been when the soft, relentless waves of pleasure finally start to subside, but according to the way his muscles are quivering, more than a few minutes. Ten or fifteen, maybe.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, and twitches as his dick begins softening. He blinks down his body at it, somewhat startled it can get soft with a ring on, and realizes that the knot is back to the barely noticeable bulge it was to start with. He moans when Chuck pulls the ring off, and then slumps, shivering.

“Welp, too bad,” Chuck says cheerfully, “looks like we killed Rich. We'll miss his giant dick.”

“Fuck off, Squeaks,” Rich mumbles, glaring hazily.

“Your eyes are green again,” Ms Kane says with interest.

“Oh, whoops,” he says, and with an effort, gets the control to change them back to wer gold. Ms Kane hums quietly, her hands digging into his hair, pressing close to even that tiny shift.

“Hey, Chuckles,” Mike says, “looks like you could use some help, there.”

“Right,” Rich says, “lemme just—”

“No, I'm fine, it's cool,” Chuck says, waving a casual hand like they're not going to notice that he still hasn't come and his dick is dark red and dripping.

“Man, you're not _fine_ ,” Rich objects, dragging himself up onto his elbows. All his muscles feel like water.

“I said it's _cool!_ ” Chuck says a little shrilly, and glares. “I can wait longer!”

Mike groans behind Rich, and Ms Kane huffs softly, but Rich is busy staring at Chuck in bewilderment. “Man, you can obviously wait for-fuck-ever, but—you weren't a masochist that I remember, is that a recent thing, or…?”

Chuck's glare broke into a startled look about halfway through that, but before he can speak, Ms Kane says, “He’s not a masochist, he just has this thing about how long it needs to take before he's allowed to get off. Sometimes it's fun, but sometimes he gets a little ridiculous. Seriously, Chuck, this is extreme even for you.”

Chuck flushes pink and chitters, a resentful, embarrassed noise Rich remembers from when he was much younger, and his eyes flicker to Rich before he huffs and looks away from all of them.

Rich gets a bizarre, unsettling suspicion, and feels his ears tilt back. “Man, are you, like… trying to impress me?”

“What, no!” Chuck says, glaring at him and going from pink to red, but he doesn't look startled like he would if it hadn't even occurred to him. “I just—I came way too fast the first time, so. I can do better than that!”

“You didn't come _that_ fast,” Rich objects, “and anyway, it's sex! Getting off is the _point_ ; so long as you don't leave someone hanging, who cares?”

“I do,” Chuck mumbles, not looking at him, “and you sure _used_ to.”

For a second Rich doesn't have a clue what he's talking about, and then he remembers how at sixteen or seventeen he'd give Chuck a hard time and basically be a dick, seething with insecurity over the genius prodigy. Even after they started trading handjobs and hooking up when Chuck was fifteen, Rich was still sometimes a dick, like the times early on when he'd tease Chuck for, yeah, for coming so fast. Shit. Apparently that left a permanent mark.

“Okay,” he says, guilt a weight in his stomach, “first of all, I was a dick, and second, I was _seventeen_ , I didn't know shit! I am _obviously_ older and wiser now—” Ms Kane snickers behind him, “so you can go ahead and listen to me and forget what I said before, seriously.”

Chuck looks dubious. He's opening his mouth to say something when Ms Kane cuts him off.

“I think you should get me off,” she tells Chuck, “while Mike and Rich tease you, and then Rich will fuck you into the floor and make you come so I can watch. Agreed?”

Chuck makes a squeaky noise, ears flicking repeatedly as he flushes even darker red, and nods.

"Awesome!" Mike says cheerfully. "That sound cool to you?" he asks Rich, who nods, licking his lips. God, how long is the spell backlash going to take to fade? Rich just came his brains out, he should be done for the next _week_ , but he's definitely not yet.

Chuck gets up, strips at Ms Kane's bidding, and kneels on the floor, and Rich takes the opportunity to shift back to his normal human shape. He hesitates a second before doing it, because Ms Kane likes the tail, maybe he shouldn't—but the thought of being trapped in one shape by someone else's desires again is enough to have him shifting in a surge of panic. Ms Kane is focused on Chuck as he leans in between her thighs, she's not paying attention to Rich, it's okay.

Mike grins at him as the two of them get off the couch to sit on either side of Chuck, and then Rich is thoroughly distracted from his concerns by playing with Chuck. The moans and chirps are muffled between Ms Kane's legs, but Rich can still hear them fine as he reaches down to tease Chuck's dick with a feathery touch, and they send little shocks of want up his spine. Mike is attached to Chuck's neck, probably leaving toothmarks, by the shivery noise Chuck makes, and when Rich reaches around Chuck to pinch his nipples, he jerks and whines hungrily.

Ms Kane seems to appreciate the sounds he's making as much as Rich does, and it doesn't take her long to come, shuddering as she curls over Chuck. Then she flops back against the couch, breathing hard, and tugs Chuck's head up.

"Good," she gasps, "nice, thanks. Now you can get yourself ready while they keep playing with you."

Chuck lets out a breathless, shivery chirp and licks his lips. Mike hands him the lube without even taking his mouth off Chuck's neck, and Rich takes a cue from him and nips his way up one of Chuck's long, mobile ears, which makes Chuck gasp. Moaning, he opens the lube, slicks his fingers and shifts on his knees, arching his back as he reaches around behind and under himself, and the breathy little whimper he makes as his arm flexes puts a curl of heat in Rich's gut.

Rich keeps playing with Chuck's dick and nipples, sucks on his neck and ears, and maybe grinds a little against his side, which makes him chitter and whine hungrily. It doesn't take as long as Rich expected before Chuck is pulling his fingers free and straightening up, breathing so hard it takes him a moment to speak.

"Okay!" he gasps, a warbling edge to his voice. "I'm good, I'm, can, let's go!"

"Awesome," Rich says, and grabs for him. Chuck kisses him hard, pulls back to fumble for a condom and gets it on him, and then lube. Rich pushes Chuck down on his back, bends him in half and picks up his hips to push slowly in as Chuck gasps and chirps and moans.

"What the fuck," Ms Kane says suddenly, and Rich freezes. She's frowning at Chuck, but in a distracted way, and as Rich watches she shifts in her seat, squirming, and the frown deepens. "I should be _done_ by now, _we_ should be done—the backlash is lasting too long."

Chuck groans breathlessly and jerks, trying to rock up farther onto Rich's dick. "I'm not done—at all," he gasps, and chitters in frustration. "Come _on_ , dude!"

Rich's hips move on their own, rolling once before he gets control again, panting. "Should, is it bad?" he asks. "Should we—not, is it making it worse?"

"No, that's not—" Ms Kane says, and stops. "This isn't backlash." Eyes narrow, she gets up and stalks across the pod to the corner where she threw Rich's broken bracelet.

Rich can't hold still anymore and starts fucking Chuck, slow and deep, and Chuck writhes into it, making a lot of breathless noise. It's hard to keep watching Ms Kane when Rich is distracted by the slick hot clench of Chuck's ass, the sounds he's making and the hungry way he moves under Rich, but Rich sees her make a sharp gesture before picking the bracelet up. He sees her lips twists in a snarl, sees the golden flame-shimmer surround her hands and crackle off her hair, and then there's a small, sharp _snap_. Rich gasps as a wire-thin tension in him, so usual by now as to be unnoticeable, abruptly gives way.

Chuck gives a startled chirp and Mike says, "Oh! Dang, that felt weird."

"Fucking Grear," Ms Kane growls. "He won't be casting sneaky fucking spells when I'm done with him."

"Is it, did you—?" Chuck gasps.

"Yes, it's broken for real now," Ms Kane says. "Once you're not in the middle of sex, you'll be able to tell."

"Sweet," Rich pants, and gratefully focuses on what he's doing.

As he rocks in and out of Chuck at a steady, quickening pace, Chuck goes from a soft, eager croon to breathless moaning to cracked, desperate chirping. He arches and rocks up into Rich's movement, hands clawing at the floor. His face is flushed, his blond hair going everywhere, his dark eyes dazed and needy, and he feels incredible under Rich. He's amazing, Rich missed him so much.

"You're so hot," Rich tells him hoarsely, "feel so good, god."

Chuck gives him a dazed smile and gasps, "You t _-ooo_ oh _fuck_ , _please!"_

"Yeah, I got you," Rich pants, and switches his grip from Chuck's hips to holding him up with a hand under him so the free hand can grab his dick. Chuck gives a chittering wail as Rich jerks him off.

Trying to coordinate hands and hips at the same time isn't easy when Rich is this close to the edge, but despite the erratic rhythm, Chuck comes after a handful of strokes, head tipping back with a cry. His body jerks and shudders, clenching down around Rich again and again and dragging Rich into orgasm after him. Rich just manages to relax his hand so as not to bruise anything delicate before conscious thought is wiped out by pleasure.

He settles onto Chuck in a controlled collapse when he's done, breathing hard, and Chuck huffs softly but doesn't complain. Yet. Rich knows he will in a minute here, so as soon as he catches his breath, he'll move.

Then Chuck nuzzles Rich's temple and sighs. "That's better," he says. "Your heart's finally slowing down. 'S been going too fast this whole time."

Touched, Rich rubs his cheek against Chuck's jaw and Chuck makes a pleased little noise. Finally Rich takes a breath and heaves himself up, pulling gently out of Chuck, who groans quietly.

Rich fumbles the condom off and tied and tosses it safely into a corner as Chuck cleans himself up. Man, the spell's definitely gone, because Rich's dick is _done_. He's so wrung out he may not want sex for a week.

Chuck starts getting dressed and Rich glances around, looking for his own clothes, and then remembers with an embarrassed shock that he burst out of them shifting. He doesn't _have_ any clothes to put on. It's weird how much more naked he feels, realizing that.

"Good," says Ms Kane briskly, dark eyes intent as she glances around at Rich and the others. She already took the opportunity to get dressed while Rich was busy fucking Chuck, and although she doesn't look quite as pressed and perfect as she did to start, she looks plenty focused and terrifying.

"Now that's dealt with," she says, "we can get down to business. Rich, how did this start?"

Rich swallows and sits up straight instead of hunching like he wants to. Making himself smaller by posture or shifting won't do any good, anyway, and at least Ms Kane doesn't look like she's even registering that he's naked right now.

"I was a dumbass," he admits. "Nate was visiting me, and I shifted to a girl to tease him, and my cubicle's pretty close to the door, so when Larsson walked in unexpectedly and went straight past my cube, I didn't have enough time to shift back before he saw me. So. He yelled a lot about deviants, and then he took me to see Grear, and they, they made me take—that shape—" he has to stop to breathe as talking about it brings everything rushing back, the fear and anger and shame. "Grear put that bracelet on me, and…" He shrugs so he won't have to say _then they tested out the spell personally, to make sure I satisfied_.

Chuck leans over from his seat against the couch to put a hand on Rich's shoulder and squeeze, grimacing like he knows exactly what Rich is leaving out.

"And you were stuck," Mike finishes, scowling. He gives a doggish huff and bounces off the couch to pull his clothes on. Rich licks his lips and hunches in on himself, more and more uncomfortable just sitting here naked when everyone else is about to be dressed.

"You were in a PRT uniform," Ms Kane says. "Did they actually make you work as a physical relief technician?"

"For a few weeks, yeah," Rich mumbles. "Remanded to the position as a disciplinary measure, y'know, like they do with deviants. And that didn't really work out, so, uh, then I was just on call for the Directors and a couple executives."

"Well, shit," Chuck sighs. He gets up off the floor and heads past Rich, maybe to claim a chair, Rich doesn't know because he doesn't dare take his attention off Ms Kane right now.

"And when I retired Larsson," Ms Kane says, "did anything change?"

"You mean besides me not having to deal with him anymore?" Rich says.

"Oh my god, you poor bastard," Chuck says, coming up behind him, and Rich jumps a little as Chuck stoops to drape a blanket over Rich's shoulders. Rich tugs it gratefully around him to cover up as much as possible, ridiculously comforted by the layer between his bare skin and the gazes on him.

"Fuck," Chuck goes on, "of _course_ he'd take advantage of—Julie, how deep a hole can we drop Larsson in?"

"I'm thinking maybe a mile or two," Ms Kane says, eyes narrow. "Possibly along with the rest of the Board. Rich, how many of them knew?"

"Knew what, who I really was?" Rich asks. "Larsson and Grear. I'm pretty sure Carraway knows about—that I'm a deviant, transferred in as discipline, and all of them knew about the spell, that they shouldn't touch me until they wanted to—to get revved up, and…start in on doing stuff."

"Did they know you were enchanted against your will?" Ms Kane asks.

Rich chews on his lip, frowning. "I mean… I'd think it was pretty obvious? I dunno. It's not like I was happy about it, and I'm not that great an actor..."

"Hey, Jules," Mike says, "how about let's get the guy some real clothes, and something to eat and stuff if you're gonna keep grilling him."

"Oh!" Ms Kane says, and looks abashed. "Of course, you can't fit back into what you were wearing. Sorry. I get kind of focused."

"You hungry, dude?" Chuck asks Rich.

"Yeah," Rich says, "but, um. Can I ask… Can I quit being a PRT now? I wasn't a very good one, and I just—"

" _Rich_ ," Chuck says, staring at him. "Fuck, man, of _course_ you're quitting! You can go wherever you want after this, we _owe_ you. This shit was going on under our noses for the last two months, and we didn't have a clue!"

"Yeah, we thought letting everyone out of the detention cells was the main thing," Mike says. "The PRTs, _dang_."

"We'll have to interview them all," Ms Kane says grimly, "make certain any other _disciplinary transfers_ are reversed and appropriate reparations made." She lifts her hand and gestures and there's a quiet _clunk_ as the pod docks. Rich hastily gathers the blanket, wrapping it carefully around him as he stands up with the others. Chuck hooks an arm around his shoulders and they follow Ms Kane out of the pod.

They step into an executive suite, and Rich follows the tug of Chuck's arm through the room of pristine white and blue furniture into another room, where Ms Kane snaps her fingers. The holograms drop, revealing colorful, worn, comfy-looking furniture like the stuff in the pod.

"Go ahead and print whatever clothes you want," Ms Kane tells Rich, waving at a door, and he goes into a palatial bathroom and gratefully closes the door.

He takes a nice long shower, prints himself clothes that _aren't_ skin-tight and revealing, and then stares at himself in the mirror. After months seeing a cute girl reflected, there's a weird feeling of dislocation at seeing his usual face, square jaw and thick brows and all. It's even weirder that he doesn't look much different than before all this; a little thinner maybe, with a wide-eyed, nervous look.

He jumps hard when someone taps on the door. "Hey, dude," says Mike's voice, "take your time, but we've got the food, just so you know."

"Thanks!" Rich says hastily. "Be right out!"

He has to nerve himself up before he can open the door. Despite all the sex he just had with these three, they're still the most important people in Deluxe, and he's no one. Almost literally, since he's been deleted; there are no records of him now, they could do whatever they wanted with him. Ms Kane could keep him as her private entertainment, make him shift for her enjoyment and no one would even know, the rest of R&D's probably forgotten him completely by now—

Rich catches himself panting in panic, leaning against the door, and stops that train of thought right there. Chuck still seems to like him, so he probably wouldn't let that happen. Rich is just freaking out because it's been a rough day and he needs to eat.

He takes a long breath, blows it out slow and controlled, and goes out into the next room.

It turns out Mike meant _Motorcity_ food, not throat cubes. Rich is ecstatic to be able to eat as much as he wants for once of what's usually a hotly contested, secret break room treat—at least, after being reminded that the CEO of KaneCo can import whatever she wants. If he eats too much and they want more, she'll just order more.

Chuck teases him for his enthusiasm over the food and Rich snarks back between stuffing his face. Mike snickers at both of them.

Ms Kane waits until Rich has slowed down, nibbling steadily instead of gobbling, and then asks more questions about what happened, who did what and who knew. Rich answers as best he can, but he's intensely relieved when she finally seems to be done. Answering questions is easier when he's fully dressed and being fed, but being grilled by Julie Kane is still a lot to handle.

Rich finishes the last bite of something called a calzone, takes a final swig of his berry drink and sighs contentedly.

"Better?" Chuck says, grinning at him.

Rich narrows his eyes at the amused slant of Chuck's ears. "Yes, in fact," he says. "Thanks for your concern, Director."

Chuck snorts at him. "Just making sure you won't faint from lack of sustenance in the next ten minutes."

Ms Kane is eyeing them both in amusement, and Rich sits up straighter as she focuses on him. "So, Rich," she says, "what do you want to do now? I'd understand if you want to leave Deluxe after this, and you can emigrate if you want to, although—" she hesitates, "I'd like the chance to make it up to you, to prove that Deluxe can be better than this."

"I still can't believe they were pulling that junk right under our noses," Mike grumbles. "That's the kind of awful stuff we're trying to _stop!_ "

"Grear will have a lot harder time casting gross spells on people from the inside of a warded detention cell, though," Chuck says with dark satisfaction.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need to hire some new directors who aren't creeps," Ms Kane says, huffing a sigh.

Rich chews on his lip. Ms Kane isn't bringing up wanting to feel him shift again sometime, no hints about hoping to get to know him better or anything, and Mike isn't saying anything either. Rich is starting to wonder if he hallucinated half of what he remembers from the sex. The farther he gets from it, the less likely it seems that Mike Chilton would actually want another chance at Rich's dick or that Ms Kane would be interested in him in any way, wix or not.

It's not like it matters to his decision, though—as tasty as Motorcity food is, the place itself is still a terrifying unknown. He has no guarantee he'd be safer from wix assholes down there, and up here at least he's got Chuck on his side, an actual Director.

"Can, uh," Rich says, "can I go back to being a tech? I think, especially since Chuck's in charge of R&D now, that'd, uh, I'd like that."

"Of course!" Ms Kane says, smiling at him, pleased and relieved. "You can go back as soon as you want."

"You should probably take some time off first," Chuck suggests. "To recover, and get used to your own shape—shapes—again."

"Oh yes," Ms Kane says, like she's just remembered, "shapeshifting—being a metahuman, in fact—is legal now. You can't get in trouble for that again."

Rich stares at them both a minute, trying to process that, all of it. Obviously being allowed to shift is a bigger deal, but the idea of taking _time off_ , of a Director _advocating_ that he do that—it's just as shocking in a subtler way. As far as Rich knows, R&D management has always encouraged employees to live and breathe their work, and while taking half a day off isn't illegal, it would still get you solidly in your superiors' bad books for "lack of commitment". Rich isn't sure he knows _how_ to take time off when that doesn't mean sitting in a locked pod waiting to be called out to get fucked.

"If it's okay," he says cautiously, "I'd like to go back now. I dunno if someone else has my cubicle now, or what they did with my stuff…"

"If that's what you want, dude," Chuck says, "let's go!"

*

Rich walks through the door of the department and pauses, looking around. It's only been three months, it shouldn't be a shock that everything looks the same.

He's hesitating, uncomfortably aware that Chuck is watching him thoughtfully from half a step behind, when a familiar voice yelps, " _Rich!_ "

Nate comes tearing out of his cubicle and _tackles_ Rich, hugging as much of him as he can get his arms around. "Holy shit, you're _alive!_ "

Staggered more by the intensity of the greeting than the impact, Rich hugs him carefully back. "Uh, yeah! I'm, yeah, here I am."

Miguel sticks his head out of his cubicle, sees Rich, and gives him an astounded grin before flicking up a screen and typing something.

"You were just _gone_ , man," Nate says, pulling back to give Rich a distressed look. "We searched the database, but there was no record of transfer, even to detention, no nothing, Larsson fucking _erased_ you!"

Rich had no idea Nate liked him this much, wow. He's usually a pretty chill guy, doesn't get worked up about much.

"I, yeah, I know," Rich says. "He locked my comms to anyone under executive level, too, or I would've tried to contact you guys."

"Goddamn," Miguel says, coming over, "we didn't think we'd see you again in one piece, man." He leans in for a one-armed hug, pounding Rich enthusiastically on the back. "What hole did you haul him out of, Chuck?"

"Rich!" yells Anton before Chuck can answer, coming around the corner, and then techies are streaming out of their cubes, calling out to Rich, crowding close to hug him or squeeze his shoulder, clap him on the back, swear at him for worrying everyone. It's overwhelming; Rich is dizzy with it, chest full of bewildered warmth. He has to keep blinking. He figured they'd be pleased to know he wasn't rotting in detention somewhere, but he never thought the whole department would be so happy that they'd all come out to welcome him back.

"You _dumbass_ ," Ben growls, shaking him by the shoulders, and when a werebear shakes you, you stay shook, even at Rich's size. "Raoul just about fretted himself into pieces when he couldn't find where they took you, you shifty little idiot. He decided the whole mess was his fault for not getting you downstairs earlier." He tugs Rich's head down to give him a noogie. "I'm gonna lock you in your cube so you can't fucking worry us like that again."

Rich's laugh comes out unsteady, because he knows it's a joke, but just now he doesn't want to think about being locked up anywhere, even by Ben. It's obvious how glad Ben is that he's back, though, and Rich has to take a moment before he can talk again.

"I didn't _wanna_ go downstairs, though," he says. "What, did Raoul think he should've made me anyway?"

"You think he could think straight about any of it?" Ben retorts, and pauses. "You good, kid?" he says in a lower voice, dark eyes sharp on Rich's face.

Rich nods, confused, and realizes belatedly that _duh_ , Ben is probably smelling the sex on him, shower or no. His face heats as he reflects that Ben can probably tell how many different people were involved, too, and what they did, and _agh_.

"No, yeah, I'm fine," he mumbles, unable to look Ben in the face. "Everything's good, now."

"Okay, but what the hell _happened?_ " Nate demands.

"Yeah," Miguel says, "if you weren't in detention, where'd Larsson _put_ you?"

Rich hesitates. He might be willing to tell, say, Ben, the basic outline of events, but he has no desire whatsoever to talk about it with his whole department at once. He's not sure if it'd be worse if they think it's no big deal, or something terrible enough to treat him with cautious pity afterwards, or worse, disgust. He can't risk it, but he doesn't know what to say.

"Grear put him under a spell," Chuck says, and shrugs as Rich stares at him in dismay. "Turns out wix like shapeshifters. Grear was using Rich's magic for stuff, right?"

"Yeah," Rich says. "He… I was locked in a pod a lot."

"And pretty out of it the rest of the time," Chuck finishes, and Rich nods gratefully. God, Chuck is smart.

"Shit, man," Sam says, reaching over Anton to squeeze Rich's shoulder, "that fucking sucks!"

There's a babble of general agreement, although Rich notices Nate and Anton and several others looking dubious or thoughtful. It's not like they'd miss that Chuck stepped in to explain, or that something was left out of the story. Fortunately for Rich, no one seems inclined to dig for further details.

Glancing around at the crowd, Rich realizes for the first time that Raoul is lingering over by the cubicles, arms wrapped around himself, watching from a distance. He twitches when he sees Rich looking at him, and glances around like he's thinking of ducking out of sight.

"Raoul!" Rich calls, and the techs willingly make way as he heads for the guy. "What, don't I rate a hug?" Rich says when he gets close, and Raoul stares before shaking himself.

"You—yeah, of course, kid," he mutters, and tentatively puts his arms around Rich, who wraps Raoul up in return and squeezes him firmly. He may be a decade older than Rich, but he's a full head shorter and lean, and it's easy to just hold onto him, selfishly taking comfort.

Raoul is obviously feeling a lot, judging by the scent of burning spice wafting into Rich's nose, Raoul's magic flickering around him with the intensity of his emotions. For a second Rich is afraid the smell and feel of the magic is going to be too much, he's gonna tense up on Raoul, freak out just because he's wix and Rich has _issues_ now. He doesn't, though. Rich knows Raoul, has known the scent of his magic since Rich was a sixteen-year-old intern. It doesn't feel dangerous; it feels like home.

"I'm really sorry, kid," Raoul says in a low voice.

"Man, how the hell was it your fault?" Rich says, pulling back to stare at him.

"I should've taken better care of you," Raoul says, head down. "I was in charge of relocating people and I _knew_ it wasn't safe for you here, I should've gotten you out a long—"

"Hey, forget it!" Rich says firmly. "I wasn't interested in going downstairs, I wouldn't have gone! And besides, it wasn't safe for _any_ of us here, no one was safe with Larsson around."

"Yeah, well," Raoul says. "I should've—but it's different now." His head comes up, his lips firm, and he gives Rick a determined look. "That asshole's gone now, and we're not gonna be penalized for being metahuman anymore, so no one's getting dragged off like that again."

"Oh, speaking of," Chuck says, voice raised enough that everyone gathered can hear, "we _should_ have this shit locked down by now, but we keep thinking that and being wrong, so just as a reminder: if any of you think something's up, whether it's Security looking like they want to push someone around or a manager giving you a hard time, let me know. We should have more sophisticated procedures in place soon, but for now I'm the safety net."

"Safety bat," Miguel murmurs, and Chuck rolls his eyes.

"Security hasn't come around at all this month," Ben tells Chuck. "Chilton's doing all right reining them in so far."

"Good!" Chuck says. "All right, then. I've gotta go, you guys get Rich settled in, and remember, comm me!" He catches Rich's eye for a second as he says that, and Rich nods hastily.

Then Chuck nods to everyone and walks out, and Nate grabs Rich's elbow and tugs him over to where Rich's cubicle was—and is.

"I mean," Nate says as Rich stares at all his stuff arranged exactly how he left it, "it's not like the department's overcrowded. We got a new intern, but there's still an empty cube or two. We weren't gonna clear yours out if we didn't have to, you know?"

He looks startled when Rich turns and hugs him, but hugs back fervently. "I'm so glad you're okay," he says, and Rich squeezes him.

He sits down, still staring around, and Nate leans against the desk and tells him everything that's happened in the department since Ms Kane took over. Rich relaxes into it and listens.

Or—he partly relaxes. Everything should be fine now, he’s back in his own cubicle in his department, his friends were all happy to see him again, he’s _safe_.

He doesn’t feel safe. Larsson walked straight in and dragged him away last time, right out of his cube, and there was nothing anyone could do, and even if Larsson is gone now, there are plenty of directors and other executives left.

Rich should be able to relax now, but part of him is still coiled and waiting for the other shoe to drop, which is probably why he immediately notices the first sign of disturbance.

It hasn’t even been an hour when he becomes aware of voices by the department door, one tense and sharp that he recognizes as Miguel, and one he doesn't know. He recognizes the tone, though, and it sends a shiver of unease through him. That's an upper administrator, maybe not an executive, but definitely someone who's not used to arguing with a lowly tech.

He knows he should just stay where he is, not seek out trouble, but his stomach is already curling into a knot and not knowing will make it worse. Nate is frowning in that direction, too, and when Rich gets up, so does Nate. They step out of Rich's cube together.

In front of the door, Miguel is facing off against a guy who looks like some executive's assistant or something, stepping from one side to the other as the assistant tries to get past him. Miguel looks tense and on edge, while the assistant seems vaguely annoyed.

"I told you," Miguel says, "there's no Richard Merrill here!"

"Director Grear sent me to find Richard Merrill," the assistant says like he didn't even hear him, and Rich goes cold all over. "He wants to see him."

"He's not here!" Miguel snaps, and steps to the side again to block the man, who looks past him to see Rich and Nate standing at the end of the aisle.

"Richard Merrill," the assistant says, and Rich wonders distantly if the guy was interrupted in the middle of a project or what: he looks more distracted than anything. He makes to step toward Rich, but Miguel gets in the way, and for a moment it looks like there's going to be a shoving match. Then Miguel lets go of the guy, swaying.

"Oh," Miguel says, and turns to look at Rich, frowning faintly. "Rich. Director Grear wants to see you."

Rich’s breath stops, ice spearing through him. He stares at Miguel, then wildly at the assistant as he walks forward unimpeded—

"Oh, like hell!" Nate says, storming forward to get in the way. More heads are poking out of cubicles now, techs coming over to back Nate up, stand between the assistant and Rich. "Spell contagion, don’t let him or Miguel touch you," Nate warns the others.

Miguel is still staring at Rich, and starts moving forward in a jerky, halting way. The assistant is trying to get around the crowd of techs, who refuse to give way, but if they dodge when he reaches for them, he gains ground, and if they don't move he can touch them, and then Jason and Phil are both swaying and dazed, and Rich can't breathe. He edges back one fumbling step at a time, not daring to look away from the crowd, but he won't be able to evade the whole department once the spell has spread to all of them. Maybe he should run now, before it’s too late—

Raoul comes storming around the corner of a cubicle at the other end of the aisle and goes straight for the assistant, glowering. The assistant doesn't seem to realize his danger, making no attempt to avoid him or escape, and Raoul claps his hands onto either side of the guy's face. A burst of wind explodes outward from the two of them, the scent of peppery spices with a charred edge blowing across the gathered techs.

Tense and still, Rich watches as the assistant sways and pulls away from Raoul, looking around with a much more alert frown than he'd worn before. Miguel is swearing softly, and Jason is a lot louder. Clearly the spell broke on all of them at the same time, and Rich is hugely relieved about that, but Jason's yelling is stressing him out.

Jason starts towards the assistant with a glower and Raoul whips around to face him. "Go cool down, kid," Raoul orders. " _Now_. You can come talk to me later if you want."

"But he enspelled me!" Jason protests.

"I _beg_ your—" the assistant starts, and Raoul talks over him like he didn't even notice.

"He's not even wix. _Grear_ enspelled you," Raoul says. "Now chill."

Jason huffs and crosses his arms, but he stops yelling.

When Rich shifts to have a clear view, the assistant is looking kind of unsettled and edgy. Rich could almost feel sorry for the guy, since knowing Grear he won't have bothered to ask permission or even warn the guy before casting that spell on him. Unfortunately, the fact that Grear is apparently still casting spells on people and also trying to get Rich back is occupying most of Rich's mind right now, and he doesn't have much left for sympathy.

"I—I'm supposed to find Richard Merrill," the assistant says, straightening up, and looks over at Rich towering above the crowd. "The director wants to see you."

"He's not a director anymore," Raoul says, his frown darkening.

"And Rich isn't going anywhere!" Nate says, to a rumble of agreement from the other techs, and a wave of gratitude goes through Rich. They all came out to help, to protect him, and they're still standing up for him. They've got his back.

It gives him the courage to take a breath and say, "And, Grear is supposed to—Ms Kane said he'd be in detention."

"Sensible, seeing as he's casting illegal control spells on people," Raoul adds with false geniality.

The assistant hesitates, rubbing his forehead, and the lost, unnerved look on his face sends an unwanted pang through Rich.

"Yes," says another voice, and some of the tension still strung through Rich releases abruptly. Ben comes forward through the crowd, eyes narrow and intent on the assistant. He's taken off his overshirt, and Rich wonders suddenly if he was ready to shift, if the assistant only barely escaped being scared right out of the department by a rampaging bear. Another swell of disbelieving warmth rises through him.

"Why _is_ Grear casting spells on people instead of being locked up like he should be?" Ben asks the assistant.

The assistant gives him a nervous blank look. "He _did_ seem to be in a hurry," he admits, and then shakes himself. "I have better things to do than question a director," he says severely, "and so should you!" He sweeps a look over the gathered techs, raises a hand and beckons peremptorily to Rich, who doesn't move except to glance around and check that he's got clear exit routes if the guy comes for him. Not that Rich would have to run, actually, now that the spell is gone. He's just really on edge, still.

"I don't think you understand," Ben says, stepping up next to Raoul to put a firm hand on the assistant's shoulder. "Grear is supposed to be under arrest."

"Which means we don't follow his orders anymore," Raoul adds. "And neither do you."

Ben lets go of the assistant, who immediately steps back, getting some distance.

“Well, I,” the assistant stammers, “I’m, the point—”

"The point _is_ ," Ben says, frowning, "how the fuck did this happen? Let's see if Ms Kane has any answers." He raises a comm screen.

"Uh!" Raoul says. "I'm not sure that's, shouldn't we—"

"Tell Ms Kane the witch she meant to arrest got away instead?" Ben says. "Yeah, I think we should."

The assistant is edging rapidly out the door, and honestly at this point Rich is fine with letting him go. Ben and Raoul seem to agree, or possibly just Ben does while Raoul is completely distracted by the imminent call to the CEO. Rich will admit to being pretty distracted himself.

Ms Kane isn’t gonna be happy about this. Even if she’s somehow okay with being called up personally by some random department head like she’s not busy, like she doesn’t have admins, like she’s not the _head of the company_ , she’s not gonna be at all pleased, and it never pays to be the bearer of bad news.

Ben doesn't even look concerned, just grumpy. The call goes through, and Ms Kane's voice says just loud enough to hear, "Julie Kane speaking." The crowd of techs goes dead silent, paralyzed.

"Ms Kane," Ben says steadily, "this is Ben Jones, Head of Programming. I understood that Director Grear was under arrest, so I'm confused that some executive just showed up under a spell, saying he'd been sent to take Rich Merrill to see Grear."

"He _what?_ " Ms Kane snaps. "What spell? What were the effects?"

Raoul edges into range of the screen. “Um, Raoul Mencia here, Programming and Data Technician, I’m wix. It seemed like a pretty straightforward geas, except it spread through touch. The second iteration was less effective, but enough to be an issue, and, uh—right, the effects were, he was trying to get to Rich, and so were the guys he touched.”

“So my question is,” Ben says, “why is Grear still able to cast spells on people?”

“I have _no idea_ ,” Ms Kane says in a tone edged enough to draw blood, and Rich is just with it enough to realize half the crowd is wincing anxiously along with him. “He _should_ be in a warded detention cell by now.” She turns her head, gestures, and the glowing edge of another screen appears. Rich works his way closer through the crowd until he has a clear enough view to tell that she's looking at a live feed, skipping from an office to an empty cell to a corridor somewhere, and then Ms Kane swears out loud and shuts down the screen. Her eyes are starting to glow gold, her hair shifts and waves around her face, and her expression is unnervingly reminiscent of her father's familiar enraged look.

"He evaded Security," she snarls, "but he can't evade _me_." She pauses, pulling herself back under control, though angry sparks are still glittering off her hair. "William Grear _will_ be taken into custody for crimes against KaneCo employees and therefore against KaneCo," she says evenly. "The rest of the Board is also under investigation."

Larger screens abruptly sprout throughout the room near the ceiling, so everyone can see Ms Kane, looking fierce and wix and terrifying. Rich stares up at her, wide-eyed, and hopes he looks okay. Not that she's probably even noticed him when she's got a view of the whole department.

"You are _my_ employees," she says, "and you are under _my_ protection. _No one_ will be treating people the way Larsson and Grear did anymore. I'll make sure of it." A hint of a snarl creeps into her voice on that last, and then the screens all blink out.

There's a beat of stunned, thrilled silence, and then a babble of excited conversation breaks out. Rich can hear it rising above the walls of cubicles all through the department.

"Damn, that was something!" Nate says, appearing at Rich's side, and Rich nods. It was more than something, it was a _lot_ of things, all in a row.

"Thanks for, you know," Rich tells him, not very coherently. "I really, thanks."

"Like we were gonna let someone drag you off a second time, _fuck_ no," Nate says indignantly. "You heard Ms Kane, we don't have to put up with that shit anymore. No one's getting taken away like that again, especially not you!"

Rich opens his mouth, kind of chokes, and has to hug Nate in a hurry to make sure he can't see Rich's face. Blinking a lot and breathing deeply, he claws back his control enough to finally let go.

The crowd around them has gotten noisy fast, techs describing what happened at the top of their lungs to guys who missed it, yelling about what Ms Kane said, crowing victoriously over Grear's downfall. It's too loud, too many people, too much. Rich finds himself breathing faster and looking around for escape, except these are his friends, he shouldn't want to go somewhere else—

"Hey, you okay?" Nate says, catching his elbow. "How about you head back to your cube, yeah? Take a break, get your feet back under you. Okay?"

"Yeah?" Rich says, searching his face for evidence that that's really okay.

"Yeah, man," Nate says gently. "Go on, it's fine."

"Okay," Rich mumbles, feeling sheepish but grateful, and Nate runs distraction for him until he gets free of the crowd and slips back into his own cubicle.

Flicking on the sound-canceller, Rich sits down, props his elbows on his knees, and just focuses on breathing until the tightness around his lungs gives way and some of the nervous buzzing in his head subsides. Then he sits up and runs a hand over his hair.

So much has happened, it's hard to sort it all out and look at it.

Grear hasn't been caught yet. That's the biggest thing, the most terrifying. He's still out there and he probably wants to get to Rich to make him pay for indirectly causing Grear's downfall. It's definitely not a good thought, but—Rich's entire department is on his side, including Raoul, who's a damn good witch, and they're not going to willingly let anything happen to him.

And Ms Kane was _pissed_ that Grear is still at large. That's probably not about Rich, but it's still kind of comforting. It sounded like she was planning to do something about Grear herself, which—Rich doesn't know which of them is the better witch, but old and crafty as Grear is, Ms Kane was a rebel for years without getting caught in her double life. Rich isn't going to bet against her.

He's still working to surround the way Miguel was standing up to someone from the executive floors for his sake, and Nate got in front of him, and _everyone_ stepped in to help, like it's that important to them all that they keep him safe. Not just the guys he's good friends with, his agemates, and Raoul and Ben, but everyone.

Given how amazing that is, how cautiously warm and fuzzy it makes him, he's puzzled why there's low-grade disappointment under all the rest. It takes him a while to figure out, and then he feels like an idiot.

He's disappointed that Ms Kane didn't try to convey some kind of subtle message to him in that full-department call, which is ridiculous. Even if she _was_ actually interested in him, she was pretty damn distracted by more important stuff, even if she _was_ gauche enough to do private things in public, like her Board of Directors, which she _isn't_.

Shapeshifter or not, Rich probably isn't that interesting, really. She was caught in the spell earlier this evening, all turned on and worked up, so of course she was intrigued. Now that she's thinking clearly again, Rich is just another employee, and Ms Kane already has two hot guys in bed with her anytime she wants.

Which should be a relief, really. She's wix, and the CEO, and if she wanted to use her power like Grear did, use Rich, no one would stop her—

Except Rich has seen how she is with Mike and Chuck now, and he knows that's not true. They would stop her. They _did_ stop her before, when Rich was getting scared, and she stopped right away.

He doesn't have to be afraid of her using him, doing anything he doesn't want. If he hadn't been hungry and confused and worn thin back after his shower, he would've realized it then. She was so angry over the bracelet, over the directors treating people like that. She isn't about to lock Rich up and use him that way herself.

And she’s not about to invite him to her pod for dinner anytime soon, either, so he needs to forget about it.

Rich sighs and does a sweep of his cube, cleaning and neatening, changes the bedding on his cot, checks the charge on his hoverboard. He sits down and tries to do some work, which goes slowly, since he hasn’t touched code in months. In the middle of it, he realizes he doesn’t know if his comms will work normally now, and messages Ben nervously. He spends a second wondering if the message went through before getting an immediate response, grumpy to cover concern. Rich deflates in relief.

 _Chuck fixed my comms!_ he sends back. _Sorry, I was just checking._

 _of course he did, he probably didn’t think it was worth mentioning,_ Ben responds. _don’t stress out over work, btw, take it easy tonight, kid._

Rich blinks at his comm screen in a mixture of warmth and confusion. Admittedly, Ben doesn’t usually tell people they have to work _harder_ , unless they’re really slacking, but he’s not the guy who bugs people for working too hard and makes them sleep or go eat something. That’s more Raoul’s thing. It’s kind of bizarre to hear it from Ben, but...nice.

 _God_ it's good to be home. Home and… safe. He's _safe_ now. He can't fully trust it yet, especially with Grear still out there, but even so, he’s gaining confidence. It feels really, really nice.

Rich gets up and pokes around his cubicle for a while, at loose ends without work to do. He's sick of screen games after months with nothing else to do whenever he was alone. He's tired, but he's not sure he wants to go to sleep yet, and he's vacillating over taking a stim tab when a notification screen pops up that he has a chat message.

It's from Chuck.

 **LordVanquisher: dinner tomorrow?** **u can tell me how ur settling back in, and i can complain about all the executive bullshit i have to deal with**

Rich stares at the screen, torn between pleasure, confusion and alarm. He's just about to reply when another message comes through, followed by several more in quick succession:

**LordVanquisher: just us, obviously**

**LordVanquisher: julies worried about you not knowing u have a choice? like she doesn't want u to feel pressured or anything, so she and mike aren't coming this time**

**LordVanquisher: but i figured youd know youre safe with me**

**LordVanquisher: we can talk it through tomorrow, if you're still interested in doing stuff with them too**

**LordVanquisher: i'm sure we can figure out how to make it work, if ur up for it**

Rich's heart jumps, a surge of heat and hope washing through him. For a second he's distracted, because Ms Kane _is_ still interested, and Mike too.

Then he remembers the kind of significant issue.

**theUltraGolem: arent u guys busy rihgt now fighting an escaped renegade witch??**

**LordVanquisher: haha, no, dude**

**LordVanquisher: are you kidding? julie took him evading arrest** **_personally_ **

**theUltraGolem: so, what, shes gonig after him alone???**

**LordVanquisher: no, i mean it’s DONE**

**LordVanquisher: and yeah, we came along for backup**

**LordVanquisher: mike had a whole troop with anti-wix stuff standing by**

**LordVanquisher: but she smacked a trace spell on grear and tracked him down fast, and then took him down by herself in like five minutes**

**LordVanquisher: it was** **_vicious_ **

Rich rereads the last two messages over and over, breathing faster.

**theUltraGolem: she got him?**

**theUltraGolem: its done, hes warded and everything?**

**LordVanquisher: its done.**

**LordVanquisher: he’s in a warded cell, man, he won't be enspelling anyone else, promise**

Rich breathes out, pressing his hands over his face. Grear won't be coming after him, won't enspell him again and drag him away helpless. Ms Kane caught the bastard, he's locked up. It's _safe_.

It takes a few minutes to collect himself, and his hands are still unsteady when he types the next message. He means it to be "Thanks", but what comes out instead is, **what about carraway?**

That's stupid, Carraway hasn't done anything illegal. Rich is almost positive he knew how miserable Rich was, there was that smugness in his smile sometimes, but it's Rich's word against a director's. Nothing's going to happen.

**LordVanquisher: oh, _please_ let us know if carraway so much as messages you**

**LordVanquisher: he’d better not contact you in any way, indirect or not**

**LordVanquisher: julie’s gonna fire him from the Board, obviously, but she means to arrest him, too, and it’s gonna take some time to be ready for that, politically**

**LordVanquisher: for that matter let us know if _any_ of the directors bother you**

**LordVanquisher: i thought we said that before, but maybe not**

**LordVanquisher: theyre all on thin ice, and if any of them seek you out after all the shit they put you through, thats all we need to boot them into a cell**

The prospect of not having to worry about _any_ of the directors has Rich staring dumbly at his screen again, hope and disbelief mixed. It can't be that easy, can it? But Chuck's a director too, and the CEO is on his side, and if they want those guys gone they can make it happen.

If they want Rich safe, they can keep him that way.

**theUltraGolem: thanks, i definitely will**

It doesn't seem like enough, so he goes on.

**theUltraGolem: thank ms kane for me for getting grear, i mean arresting him**

Then he just keeps typing and deleting. **its really nice** _—_ no. **it helps a lot** —nope. **im very grateful** —hell no. Finally he settles on, **its a serious relief, you know?** which still seems dumb, but at least makes sense and isn't pathetic or overformal.

**LordVanquisher: i bet!**

**LordVanquisher: and dont worry, ill tell her**

There's a pause.

**LordVanquisher: so, dinner tomorrow?**

**LordVanquisher: you can say no, dude, its fine**

Rich snorts out loud, giddy and amazed.

**theUltraGolem: why the FUCK would i say no?**

**theUltraGolem: im gonna make you feed me motorcity food adn then suck your dick for dessert**

**LordVanquisher: we’ll see who sucks whose dick**

Rich flushes with heat despite all the sex he already had today.

 **itd be cool if you want to invite ms kane and mike to dinner, too** , he suggests as casually as he can manage. Now that he's thinking about sex, memories from earlier are rising, Mike moaning under him, Ms Kane's hungry kiss and the way she shook under Chuck's hands, the way Chuck chirped and gasped for Rich. It's still incredible that he's had sex with _Julie Kane_ (well, sort of) and _Mike Chilton_ as well as Chuck, but he did, and it was great, and they _liked_ him. Three of the fucking Burners liked Rich.

They liked him changing shape, and in his own favorite shape, too big and too pale and everything, and when he played with other shapes, and they didn't try to push him to be smaller or female or to do anything he didn't want. They _cared_ what he wanted.

Which means not only are they ridiculously hot badass ex-rebels, he's _safe_ with them _._ They like him, and they listened to him, and he's breathing faster just thinking about seeing the three of them again tomorrow, if they really are still interested—

**LordVanquisher: no, i think julies right**

Some of Rich's giddy delight seeps away as he frowns at his screen.

**LordVanquisher: come on, dude, for real**

**LordVanquisher: if you got in bed with her tomorrow, how hard would it be for you to tell her no, to like, anything?**

**LordVanquisher: we’re gonna talk things over tomorrow, just you and me, and we'll figure out how to make it work**

Rich huffs softly, but he has to admit that makes sense.

**theUltraGolem: fine, worrywart**

**LordVanquisher: u bet ur ass i worry, im a professional at it, thank you**

**LordVanquisher: respect the expertise**

A laugh bursts unexpectedly out of Rich, and the anxiety starting to gnaw at him softens again. Chuck isn't jealous, the other two haven't changed their minds about Rich, this tantalizing possibility isn't being whisked away from him now that he's reaching for it. Chuck's just trying to be careful, because they _are_ the CEO and her two favorite directors, and Rich is just a tech, and… maybe in the past quarter-year he's gotten kind of used to keeping his mouth shut and taking whatever he's given when he's with someone powerful. He's gonna have to work on that, but in the meantime, it's still really cool that Chuck and the others _care_.

**theUltraGolem: of course. after years of study in the Technical Academy of Anxiety, you deserve better treatment than this  
**

**theUltraGolem: dinner at 5:30?**

**LordVanquisher: sure, ill come get you**

**theUltraGolem: see u then, Squeaks**

**LordVanquisher:** **> :( shut up, you jerk**

**LordVanquisher: <3**

Closing the screen, Rich leans back in his chair, grinning like an idiot. He can't wait for tomorrow.


End file.
